


Between the Stars

by gleamingandwholeanddeadly (something_safe), printersdevils (tuesdaysgone)



Category: Adam (2009), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, Move On (2012)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Adam Raki - Freeform, Adam is a code analyst, Bodyguard AU, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, Hannibal Extended Universe, He does more than protect him, M/M, Mark Coit is the agent sent to protect him, Slow Burn, cw: alcohol (infrequent), cw: anxiety, cw: panic attacks, mark coit - Freeform, move on, porn payoff, spy shit, tw: gun violence, tw: mild intimidation, tw: pursuit, vague description of government intelligence systems, vague sinister government organisations, we know nothing about computers or satellites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 08:53:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 42,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19103815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/something_safe/pseuds/gleamingandwholeanddeadly, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdaysgone/pseuds/printersdevils
Summary: Adam Raki has barely settled into his new life as an intelligence satellite programmer before it gets turned upside down in the wake of a security breach that puts it very much in danger. He's assigned a protective detail in the form of Agent Mark Coit: gruff, unapologetically lethal, and compellingly enigmatic.Trusting him is imperative to his survival, but overcoming his fears is easier said than done.





	Between the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> In essence, this is a story about learning how different people communicate, and miscommunication, and we hope that's how it comes across. As ever, if anything doesn't work or feels wrong, please let us know, but this is purely for entertainment and neither of us claims to be an authority on how people with Asperger's should be portrayed in fiction. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy,
> 
> L & Deadly xoxo

Adam is working on three separate monitors, the glow of them rendering him ghostly in the dark of his office. His hands fly over the keys, expression intent, foot absently tapping as he types. He's so absorbed he doesn't hear the knock, and then the polite but uncertain bleat of his name that follows.

When he does hear it, it makes him jump. He looks around, touching a hand to his chest.

"Oh - I'm sorry. I didn't hear. Can I help you?"

"Adam," the girl says hesitantly. The new girl, Tana? Tanya - he doesn't know. She wrings her hands. "Adam, Director Collins wants to see you."

"Oh." Hand wringing. She looks nervous. It occurs to him it might be bad news - is he fired? "Okay. Thank you, Tanya. Does... is it now?"

"Yes, please, Adam." She bites her lip.

He nods, saving his progress quickly and getting up, brushing himself down and following her, squeezing his fingers against his palm. Absently, he touches the edge of his desk, then his door jamb, watching his shoes as he walks down the fluorescent - lit hall. Tanya glances back at him every now and again, until they get to the Director's office, where she uses an intercom to tell her that Adam has arrived. He goes to sit, but the director answers back immediately to send him in, and he freezes and then straightens again.

He's only been working for Director Collins for about nine months. She'd known his supervisor at the observatory, had cherry picked him to work for Global Dynamics with a generous employment package, no interviews required. He'd ended up taking it, but it had been an adjustment period for all of them. Adam had spent a long time learning how to work with people, in a very public place, and now he is very much back to what he knew before: hunched in an office, working on code until someone reminds him to go home. The only difference is now it's for a government contractor, with health benefits and a five figure salary. He still goes back to look at the stars, but he's got a new project now. The program had come to him over many other nights at the observatory, itching at his fingers until he had to sit down and write it out.

His supervisor had asked whether he was working on anything new - they'd had plenty of conversations about it before - and when Adam had showed him, his expression had gone strange. "How did you come up with this idea?" he'd asked. Adam had told him - he'd been so excited that he'd had a hard time limiting his words, and only realized later that he hadn't been interrupted at all. A few weeks later, he'd gotten a call from Director Collins.

She'd asked him to explain too. And to show him the program. Then she'd explained who she worked for. Now, Global Dynamics uses the program to control intelligence satellites. It's engaging, demanding work, but it's what he needs.

Collins sees him enter her office and looks up. "Mr. Raki," she greets him formally. "Please sit down."

Adam obeys, smoothing the knees of his khakis and staring at the braid tucked behind her left ear. "Director? Did I do something?"

"No, Adam. This is not about your performance, we're very pleased with the work you're doing. You can relax."

He glances at her face, then back at her ear. "Okay."

"Look, I - you remember a month ago, when I asked if I could share your beta variant of your tracker with my friend?"

He nods. "Perseus, yes. It's still not done, Director, I - "

She sighs, folding her hands. "No. Adam, there's been a security breach. What I'm about to explain to you is serious, but you needn't be alarmed."

He flicks his gaze to his lap, then to the corner of the room. He clamps his hands around the sides of the chair. "I - security breach? With Perseus?" He wants to stand up and dash back to his office, where the modified tracker still cascades across his screens.

Director Collins tilts her head. "Unfortunately, yes."

"What kind? I can fix it, I could - "

"It's - not that kind of problem, Mr. Raki. With your permission, I'd like to bring in a gentleman to explain. He's waiting in our conference room."

Adam blinks a few times. "Oh - all right." He nods. Collins calls out to Tanya, and a moment later a man joins them. He shakes hands and introduces himself. "Phil Brown," Adam repeats patiently. He's not given a title, even though he clearly knows Adam's.

"I'm a security consultant for several government agencies," he says when Adam just waits.

Adam glances at Collins. He can feel fear starting to creep in on the corners of his mind like a chill. "Security?"

"Have you, personally, shared your progress on the variant known as Perseus with anyone outside of your lab?"

"N - no, not since I signed my non - disclosure agreement. Am I being investigated? I have a lot of security ware set up, I don't think - " His chest feels tight. He blinks, focuses on his hands.

"You're not being investigated, Adam," Director Collins explains slowly. He takes a breath, looks up when he's managed to count to ten.

"We suspect a security leak, Mr. Raki. Someone has sold info on your variant, and there is... interest on the black market."

"So you need me to change it?"

"Can you?" Brown asks.

"Most of Perseus is still in beta," Adam explains. "The subprograms don't do the same thing if they're not connected."

Brown and Collins exchange a look. "That's what our analysts assumed," Brown says. "That's why we'd like to, with your permission, offer you protection until we can trace the leak."

"Protection from what?" The alarm creeps back up. Adam grips at his own knee, focusing on the weave pattern of his jeans for a minute.

"There are already several interested bidders for the leak. If they know you're necessary for full functionality... "

"Someone else would probably be able to reconstruct the framework," Adam says tightly. "After time."

"We can't assume these people have time, Mr. Raki. We're concerned for your safety."

"Wh - what must I do?"

"We think it's best if we assign you a protection detail for some time, until we've had a chance to secure the tech."

"I - no, no, I'm not... "

"Adam," Director Collins says steadily, "it's just a precaution, nothing will change but you'll be accompanied, is all."

"Accompanied where?"

Collins looks at Brown for help. "The agent will accompany you between home and work, and guard your residence overnight. All expenses will be paid for by our agency."

"Guard my residence?" Adam itches behind his ear uncomfortably. "I don't know if I want someone just - standing around outside my apartment."

"Inside is standard," Brown says expressionlessly.

Adam looks at the floor, and then his hands, and counts inside his head. "Someone in my house."

"I know it's an imposition," the director says gently. "But we're very concerned."

Adam nods to show he understands, even though he abjectly does not. "How would anyone even know what I looked like - I've never even... I don't even have social media."

"These people have resources," Brown says. "But so do we."

The second part doesn't make Adam feel any better about the first. "How long for?"

"We don't know yet," Brown sighs. "A week or two for certain."

Adam looks at Director Collins, almost pleading. "May we have a moment?" she asks Brown. He nods, ducking back out of the office. Collins looks back at Adam, who bites his lip and looks down. "Can I come sit next to you, Adam?"

He nods. He likes her. She reminds him of Harlan's younger sister, who used to bring him library books when he was sick at home. Harlan! He wants to talk to him, suddenly and painfully.

"Adam, you must be stressed about this, and I understand, but until we know you're out of the woods I want you to work with the security detail, okay? This is not a routine part of government work, but I have no doubt you'll be in the best of hands and that our consultants will make every allowance for what you need. Is that all right?"

Adam doesn't shake his head like he wants to. He just glances up, swift and staring. Director Collins sighs.

"Adam. How can I help?"

"I just need to think about it," Adam says, "and to - I need to start working on the changes to Perseus."

"Could you work from home? Would you feel better staying there with your security?"

"Yes," he says, chewing his lip.

"Can you tolerate a guest for a week or two?"

"Yes, but I don't want to," Adam says, uncomfortably.

"I know. But please do."

He sighs, put upon, and nods. "All right, Director."

"I'm going to call Mr. Brown back in."

Adam nods, fidgeting nervously while they talk over him. He's already obsessing over this. Someone in his home. Someone else watching him. He can do it, he'll be okay, he knows that logically - but he doesn't want it. It burns his skin. He glares up at Agent Brown. "When... does this start?"

"As soon as your detail gets here. We've phoned him in."

Adam scowls. "Can I go back to my office now?"

"Mr. Brown will escort you, Adam."

He can tell, he thinks, that she feels unhappy about this. He's just not sure if it's for him or with him. He hopes not with him. It lights a fire of anxiety in the back of his skull as he shuffles back to his office, the silent Mr. Brown close behind.

He wrings his hands as he scans his computer screens. It shouldn't be hard to reroute the coding but it will take a long time. It's hard when he feels eyes on him. He finds a pair of headphones and turns on one of his playlists. Soon enough, it's easy to get back into what he was doing. He saves everything he can and locks up access to his laptop as tightly as he can.

It's a good couple of hours before he's disturbed again. Agent Brown comes over and knocks lightly on his desk. Adam takes his headphones off and forces himself to look at his chin.

"Yes?"

"My agent is here, Mr. Raki. Will you meet him?"

"Doesn't sound much like I have a choice, Mr. Brown."

Brown lets it slide, going to the door and opening it. Adam gets out of his chair to avoid being towered over. He can't help his posture, especially with the kinks he's worked his back into over the past hours, but he tries.

The man waiting in the doorway of the office looks as if he has posture issues of his own. He's tall, but slouching, silvering hair falling thick over his forehead and ears. Not particularly well groomed. Adam had expected James Bond, he supposes. This guy looks more like a trucker. He inspects Adam for a moment, silent.

Adam stares for a few beats, and then remembers himself: "H - hi. I'm Adam Raki. You must be - the detail."

"Mark Coit. Hello."

He has an accent. Adam warily offers his hand to shake, the formality second nature in the office by now. The contact is thankfully brief, the agent's hand cool and rough. He steps back after. Silence lingers between them. There should be noise. Adam bites his lip. He can fill this silence if he can only remember how to talk.

"I've been told you have to live in my house," he says, which isn't exactly what he was going for.

"So have I," Coit says shortly. "Are you ready?"

"No," Adam says simply.

Coit and Brown exchange glances. "Then I'll wait."

The two agents shake hands as well, and Brown moves to leave. "We'll be in touch with the director on a daily basis," he tells Adam.

"Thank you, Mr. Brown." He turns away almost immediately, pacing a bit. Mark Coit lingers in the doorway, presence intimidating rather than reassuring. "I don't want this," Adam tells him, packing his computer bag with jerky movements.

"Noted, Mr. Raki."

Adam runs out of room and packs things into a tote. "I have a schedule." Even looking at Mark Coit's cheek is too much. He watches his hands instead.

"I will do my best to respect it."

Adam wonders wildly what he could say that the man wouldn't reply calmly to. "I'm ready. I take the bus."

"I've been given a car."

"I take the bus," Adam repeats, "I can give you the address."

Mark looks at him silently. Then he removes his phone from his jacket pocket and types out a text. "We'll take the bus. I'll have the car dropped off."

Adam nods. He forgoes headphones - the extent of his compromise - and walks down to the lobby to scan out. Mark keeps pace effortlessly. He doesn't offer to carry any of Adam's bags.

Outside the severe, angled building, Adam looks at them reflected in the pristine mirrored glass. As always, he shies away after only a moment. He walks toward the bus stop, waving to a couple of colleagues from other floors who he's run into before. Mark studies them all, but doesn't interject himself.

On the bus, Mark sits a seat behind him, and Adam is glad for the normalcy for a minute. He pulls the cuffs of his sweater over his hands and leans against the window. Everything that usually happens, happens. Adam gets up at his stop and thanks the driver, Mark hovering behind like a tall, broad shadow. It's only a block to his apartment and Mark doesn't speak a word. Adam is starting to get anxious.

"You have to talk, Mark, or I will, and I don't want to. But you have to talk, because people _do_."

"I'm not much of a talker."

Adam shakes his head automatically. "You have to. You have to tell me... They didn't tell me... "

"Tell you what, Mr. Raki?"

"What do they want to do to me?" Adam mutters. He turns jerkily up his path, shoulders tight, and almost jumps out of his skin when Mark holds him back from the door and reaches for his keys.

"They want what you know," he murmurs, shushing Adam, putting himself between him and the door as he opens it and peers inside. He has a backpack on his back, that Adam hadn't noticed before, and he sits it down by the door. "Wait," he whispers to Adam.

Adam does, while he does a thorough search of his apartment. He frowns the whole time. When Mark returns, he ushers Adam in and closes the door.

"It's secure."

"I got the locks changed when I moved in."

Mark doesn't comment, just watches Adam as he makes his typical nighttime adjustments to the lights and blinds. Then he takes off his shoes and jacket; sets his bag down. He has chores - but he has a guest, too.

"Would you like a drink? I have water, soda, and tea," he adds when Mark doesn't reply. "Tea will take longer and I have to start dinner at seven."

"I'm fine, thank you."

Adam ducks his head. "Are you sleeping here? Do you need dinner? I only shop for myself so you may not like it."

"I have food. I am afraid I'll have to stay, yes."

"You'll have to sleep on the couch. I have blankets. Do you have a gun?" Adam asks suddenly, eyes narrowing.

Mark gives him a single, slow blink. "Yes."

Adam grimaces. Another little spark of dead fear. He swallows a few times. "Okay," he mumbles, and goes to start laundry and dinner.

It's a few minutes before he hears Mark hovering in the kitchen doorway. He looks up. This is his second California apartment, and it's large and clean and airy and has all the conveniences he could ever need; it's easy to follow a routine here. Easy to forget the interloper.

"Can I do anything?" Mark says stiffly.

"No," Adam says, probably too quickly for even politeness. "No, just. Sit and do whatever it is you do, I'm - I'll be in the kitchen." Mark dips his chin. Adam talks at his back when he turns around. "I don't have a spare room - or a mattress - I don't usually have people stay over."

"The couch will be fine. I won't sleep much."

Adam nods and goes back to dinner. He eats alone in the kitchen; washes up and sweeps the floor and wipes down the counters and then stalls when he hears movement from the living room. He goes and hovers in the doorway. Mark is perched on the arm of the sofa, a notebook computer on his lap.

Adam, knowing somehow he's been noticed, still watches him for a moment. He's got a tiredness to him, and now he's shed some of the layers of shirts, he's slimmer and leaner than Adam had thought. He looks like the coyotes that roam the canyon outside. There's a wildness in his eyes; the way he looks at Adam suddenly, flicks his hair from his face.

"Do you have a desk?"

Adam points at the nook off the kitchen, probably intended as a dining room. He has a big table, scrupulously neat but mostly covered with computer components.

"May I?" Mark asks.

Adam nods tightly and goes to get him a kitchen chair. He needs his own chair. Mark sits at it with a nod of thanks and goes back to work. After a moment, Adam joins him. He doesn't know what else to do.

They're silent for a long time. Again, Adam wades back into the sea of code. Mark is surprisingly easy to ignore. But not completely. "I have to make a phone call," he explains to Adam, when his rising disturbs him. "I won't be long."

Adam nods, chewing his lip. He puts his headphones in to keep from being disturbed when he returns. Nothing has happened so far to bother him in the least, but his skin is still crawling, and he's not thinking about - someone, out there, wanting something from him. He peers out of the kitchen window at the thought, nerves jittering.

Adam's not - he knows how he is, and he knows he deals with computers better than people and stars better even than computers, and he also knows he's not what people expect, unless they don't expect anything, but he also can't quite understand how he got into this situation.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. He hadn't wanted to leave the observatory, but Harlan had told him it was too good an opportunity to turn down - that he could save up and buy a house, maybe meet some new people. Adam has met plenty, but so far, found them all the strange blend of polite and pitying that Beth had been - or immersed in trying to puzzle him out. The Director is one of the only ones who seems to understand, and she's his boss so he can't be friends with her.

There had been a guy at the observatory - Jake - who had given Adam a few books here and there and invited him

to the movies, always without the hesitant, silent _if you do stuff like that?_ he sometimes got from the others. But then this new job had come along. Jake had given Adam his number, but he couldn't work up the courage to call it, and it'd been too long now. Maybe Jake will be working the next time he stops by. If Jake still works there. Not that he knows when he'll next be allowed to stop there. He probably shouldn't draw people into - whatever this is.

Except for Mark, of course. Mark is already in this. But Mark can't be his friend either. He's Mark's job. And Mark is terrifying. Mark, who's ambling back into the kitchen now, helping himself to a glass of water before he comes to sit back down. Adam's presence seems to be almost incidental to him. Adam shoots him a troubled look.

Mark catches it. He tilts his head. "Mr. Raki?" Adam takes his headphones off warily. "You look like you have questions."

"Yeah - this kind of situation is going to cause that kind of thing."

"I may not have answers," Mark says.

"But if you do?"

"I will answer to the best of my ability."

Adam still hears an accent. He's curious about it. He has more questions, like about who would want to profit off a satellite tracker system, but that list is going to be longer than his arm, and Mark is - for all intents and purposes - just a private security service. Adam gets overloaded enough as it is without theorizing on what impact this could have on him - and other innocent bystanders.

"Have you always been a bodyguard for hire?"

"No," Mark replies.

"What did you do before?"

"Other things," Mark murmurs. "Some related, some not."

Adam frowns. "Are you good at it?"

"Yes," Mark says. "I am. But I was retired until Philip called me in to assist on this."

"Why did he call you in, then?"

Mark runs a hand through his hair. "My boss owes him a favor, and I'm good at this."

Adam doesn't know if that's good or bad. If "good at this" means "not scary," though, Adam might disagree. "So you're here in case I - get kidnapped? Do you think that's likely?"

"It's wisest to treat all threats as credible until we have evidence otherwise." Mark finally makes eye contact with Adam, though it's clear from the way he looks away that it was unintentional on both their parts.

"So there's been a threat?"

"Yes, Mr. Raki, there has been a threat."

White noise fills Adam's ears for a moment. He stands, anxious, fidgeting and unsure how to relieve all the uncertainty in him. "My friends - they're back in New York, mostly, but are they safe? Is it just me?"

"It's just you, Mr. Raki, though when you feel able I would advise you tell anyone close to you that you will be unable to communicate with them for a while."

"Why?" Adam squeaks.

"For their safety, and to limit gatherable intel."

"You think they're tapping my phone?" Adam blanches at the unassuming hunk of glass and metal. He hates talking on the thing anyway.

"It might be the next step." Mark shrugs. "I'd avoid personal email as well. I have a secure phone if we have need of it."

Adam nods, but he's not happy. He nervously crosses from one side of the kitchen to the other. "Agent Coit," he starts miserably.

"Just call me Mark."

"We really can't leave my house? I can't talk to anyone?" Now that he's being told he can't, he has the sudden sick worry that he might _need_ to.

"You're not under house arrest, but it'd be wise to consider laying low for a few days while we scope out what we're dealing with. Can you do your work from home? I thought you told the director so."

Adam nods jerkily. "I'll keep my computer disconnected from the internet." He goes over to the sink to make himself a cup of tea. It's not part of his usual routine, but he wants it.

His hands won't cooperate. He gets the water on and then spends a second drumming his hands nervously on the counter. Piece by slow piece, he follows the routine, jaw clenched. Mark's face is drawn with something. Adam thinks it's discomfort, or concern, or both. It's the first sign of anything resembling an emotion that Adam has seen from him.

"I'm not good - I'm not good with sudden changes," Adam explains. It helps to explain.

"I understand," Mark murmurs. "What can I do to help you?"

Adam swallows a few times. He takes stock; stirs his tea. "I don't know."

Mark pauses. "What would you do if you'd had a friend come to stay with you, instead of a stranger?"

"My friends don't come and stay, because they know I don't do well with it."

Mark looks out the window for a moment. "What if we agree on a routine together? It can be as much like yours as you like, as long as it's safe." Adam bites his lip. He nods. "Tell me," Mark says quietly, and Adam does.

Mark listens attentively as he explains. Bathroom, dressed, breakfast, commute, all the way through to bi - weekly calls to Harlan; visits out to the edge of the valley on weekends for star gazing. That gets him onto the subject of the current meteor shower they should be able to see this weekend; another long ream of information Adam had been excited to read about a few days ago. When he finally stops himself, he bites his lip at Mark's expression. "Can we still go out to see the meteor shower?"

Mark looks at the ceiling. "We'll see. You'll work from here, like we discussed. So no commute. And you can call Harlan from the secure phone. Does that sound fair?"

Adam nods slowly. "I usually have my groceries delivered," he adds. "Is that safe?"

"Provided you haven't told your grocer about the codes, it should be fine."

Adam looks straight at him, brows drawing together. He can't tell if that was meant to be a joke. It sounds like a joke. Mark isn't smiling, though. "Is that sarcasm?"

"No, just - dry humor, I suppose." Mark meets his eyes.

Adam nods, pleased he caught it. "Not really funny."

"I'm not known for my jokes."

That's a joke too. Adam tries a smile. "Neither am I."

"I promise to laugh when you make one."

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

They share another glancing look. Mark smiles, just a smidge. He doesn't really look happy when he smiles, but Adam thinks maybe it's meant to be reassuring instead. "I think you and I will get on just fine, Adam."

"I hope so," Adam says, knowing it's polite.

Mark nods. Adam cups his tea to his chest and thinks of Beth. She'd disrupted his routine plenty and he'd been okay. She'd tried, until she hadn't anymore. Mark is being paid to try. Adam frowns at the thought until he goes back to work. He takes his tea and his headphones with him.

He feels a tiny bit calmer now. Calm enough that when it's time to get ready for bed, he can fetch Mark an extra pillow and blanket without too much distress. It feels strange to leave him in the living room. Adam gets ready for bed in the bathroom and thinks about it carefully; about tomorrow. It's easier, the more he thinks about it. He can do it if he expects changes.

He would have never agreed if they had said "you should" but instead they said "you must" and - he can. He gets into bed with his book and stares at the dim ceiling for a while. He can sleep too... he can. It might just take a while.

//

Mark listens to the sounds of movement from the upper floor of the condo slowly fade before he lets himself out onto the balcony to smoke. He's already regretting the job - regretting letting 'Phil' hoist him out of retirement for a fucking babysitting gig. He's read the file, yes, but he's not sure why they're going to all this trouble for a programmer.

Well. He curls his lip behind the cigarette. He does know. He can imagine all too well how easily Adam would fold if he were in a stressful situation; what access to the information his satellite tracker holds could do to American security. He's at the fulcrum of the situation now, between creation - when his program is worth nothing - and execution, when it's out of his hands. If Mark were planning the theft, he'd pick now too.

He thinks about Adam. _They might bring him back, to be honest_ , he thinks uncharitably. The kid is trouble. A lot of trouble. Not least because of his unique requirements; Mark had looked over the programming on his flight over here and been baffled by the complexity of it. Not that he's an expert; he usually uses the tech he's been given, but sometimes one must... improvise. That stuff was way over his head, and Mark used to work national intelligence.

But he doesn't have to understand the program - Perseus, Adam has called it, for some reason of his own, no doubt. It makes Mark shudder a little to think of Gorgons. He does have to try to understand Adam Raki, and how to keep him safe. One of those is easier than the other.

He glances up at Adam's window; moving lights on the ceiling. His cigarette smoke drifts up toward the stars. Stars Adam wants to watch at the weekend. Mark sighs. He understands having hobbies, even obsessions. Mark has never had the leisure time for either. "Special interests". He sighs and lights another cigarette after the first burns down. He won't sleep tonight, no matter what he implied to Adam. The situation is still too unstable, and he needs to set up surveillance. And plan an escape route.

He imagines dragging Adam on an escape route and scowls. He'll need to prepare him for that possibility. Tomorrow, when he's had a chance to get his head around the whole thing. He's clearly intelligent, naturally inclined to be polite. But stress affects everyone in strange ways. Mark has ample experience with that.

He finishes his smoke and scans the bushes before he goes back inside. He goes for his backpack and unloads the case holding his equipment, sets up a few small cameras here and there. Better not to mention it: Adam seems jumpy enough. Then he picks up his phone to see if he's received any more orders.

There's a coded message. He opens it up and presents his thumb print to decode. It's a European phone number. He taps it to call.

It picks up after one ring. "Mark." It's been a long time. She sounds even more tired than last time.

"Lena. Am I still working off that million Euros?"

"You know it. What's the situation looking like?"

"Like our mutual friend Phil is overreacting," Mark says tensely. "And why do they want your agency on this? This seems like an American problem."

"It hasn't been an American problem since the black market picked up on it," she says, sagely.

"I thought Global Dynamics worked with intelligence satellites."

"Perseus tracks private satellites. Anyone's private satellites," Lena sighs. "Didn't you read the file?"

"I suppose it was over my head." This is still babysitting, no matter what.

"I doubt that," Lena says. "How is he? The file says he's... unusual."

"He's neuroatypical," Mark corrects her shortly. "He's an intelligent, functional adult." The annoyance has come out of nowhere, but he feels suddenly quite annoyed on the kid's behalf.

"I'm sure he is." Her voice takes on an edge of amusement. "Sounds like I touched a nerve."

Guilt, maybe. He himself can't stop calling Adam a kid. But he has one of those faces - youthful and open. And Mark consistently feels about twice his own age. "Yeah, well. He's a genius. It's unfair to discredit him."

"I wasn't." Lena still sounds amused. Mark huffs and changes the subject.

"I may have to move him. I've got the car, but I could do with a check point."

"I'll work on something and send the information."

"Appreciate it."

They both hang up after a few more minor details. Mark hates that he feels better now - he resents feeling beholden to Lena, much less to whichever of her contacts she's lent him to. But he also trusts Lena completely. Also - considering this is babysitting, the payoff is fairly hefty. He can deal with whatever he needs to, for that.

He works into the night, and around dawn, lies down on the sofa and sets his alarm for two hours' time. It'll keep him going for a while longer.

*

He sleeps in shifts, getting up every two hours to do a circuit of the house; check intelligence for any feedback on who might be in the vicinity. A few files show up throughout the night from Lena – various shady characters cropping up in airports, none of them a comfortable distance from here. Mark plans several routes out of the city, various motels and garages, and reads up on Adam’s code.

Around dawn, he sets his alarm for two hours’ time, and when he wakes there is a cup of tea waiting for him on the coffee table, still hot. He hears typing from the dining room. He regards the cup, then sighs and takes a sip. It's good. He gets up and goes to wash up in the little, immaculate bathroom. He'll give Adam some time while he checks the feeds.

When he eventually goes into the kitchen, Adam is diligently tapping away on the keys. He gives Mark a slight incline of his chin in acknowledgement. He has his own cup of tea. Mark goes to find some breakfast. He finds bran. "Adam," he says politely.

"Yes?"

"Thank you for the tea. Would I be able to have some cereal?"

"Oh - you're welcome. Of course."

Mark goes back to the kitchen and serves himself, finding a seat at the small table there. He looks at Adam's bowl and spoon, clean on the draining board. He considers Adam's neat little life; wonders how he ended up here. He doesn't sound like most Californians Mark has come across. Neither does Mark, of course, but Adam has the hurried tone he associates with the East Coast. Does he remember reading that on his file?

It occurs to him he could ask. People do that, make polite conversation. Mark's meant to be polite, but not, he thinks, to disrupt Adam's life with any needs of his own.

He eats; washes up. When he finds Adam in the kitchen, he's deeply engrossed in his work. Mark is engrossed in the cameras he's set. Mostly in what they're not catching. Which is anything useful. Anything at all, actually. Footage of Adam through his own window, mostly. He's quietly, unproductively angry at how interesting he finds it. His little idiosyncratic rituals; his shuffling footsteps. He looks at Adam across the table and notices he's looking right at him. He's pretty, Mark thinks tiredly. Clean and bright.

"Mr. Coit, are you all right?"

"Mark," he corrects quietly. "I'm fine, thank you."

Adam nods. "Okay. You were scowling."

"I apologize. I can go work in the other room."

"No - no, I didn't mean that... " Adam's eyebrows raise. "Is it me?"

"Making me frown? No, Adam. I was concentrating."

"Okay." Adam nods, looking away again.

Mark keeps watching him on the feedback for longer than is strictly necessary to determine that it is in actual fact a waste of time. "So, Adam. When did you move to LA?"

"Three years and seven months," Adam says promptly.

"How many days?" Mark says, before he can stop himself.

Adam studies him skeptically for a moment. "Thirteen." He sips his tea. "It's not polite to make fun of people, you know."

"I'm sorry. Where did you live before?"

"New York."

Mark nods. "Were you born there?"

"Yeah," Adam nods, directing his gaze at Mark's shoulder, "I didn't even leave state until I moved here."

"Quite a change, I imagine," Mark murmurs.

"Well." Adam scratches his ear nervously. "You sound like yours were bigger."

"Which one?" Mark smiles wryly.

"Well - all of them, I suppose."

"It's not a competition."

Adam frowns at that. "I know."

Mark looks away. He didn't mean to make him frown. He doesn't know why it bothers him. Fuck, he's an old fool.

"I spoke to my colleague last night," he diverts. Adam glances at him, waiting for him to continue. "I've asked for a safe house to be prepared for us. I don't think we have to consider using it right now, but it's best to be prepared."

Adam raises his eyebrows again. "Oh," he says, quietly.

"I want you to feel prepared," Mark adds. He looks at Adam, engaging him. "So I would like you to make a list of things you need to take with you if we have to leave suddenly, and pack those things in an overnight bag. I also need you to tell me things you'll need to do if we have to leave - like let your friend know, or have anyone check in on your apartment. All right?"

Adam looks a bit pale. "I can - yes. I can do that."

"If we have to move, I will give you as much warning as I can Adam, I promise," Mark murmurs, "but that might not be much."

"I will pack my bag."

"Thank you." Mark nods. As he gets up to go into the other room, he sets a hand briefly on Adam's shoulder. Adam smiles aimlessly at his empty chair, clearly pleased. Mark reminds himself that being professional is a great thing to be.

He spends the morning scanning news channels, checking the feeds, letting Adam work. Lena hasn't gotten back to him yet, which is frustrating. He's distracted from checking his phone by Adam coming to find him, holding a clipboard.

"Is there anything you think I need for my bag besides usual travel essentials?"

Mark lifts the clipboard from his grip and scans the list he's written. He's so beautifully organized. Mark's former life would have given him grey hairs. "Looks perfect," he says, trying not to let his mouth tick at things like 'hand sanitizer' and 'Febreze'.

"Thank you, Mark." Adam makes a point to make eye contact. It feels like a very clear statement, his eyes blue as magpie stripes. He's trying hard to trust him.

Mark nods seriously. "It's all right. Do you have any questions?"

Adam shakes his head. "Tell me something about you?"

Mark stalls, surprised. "Not much to tell."

"Just one thing. Like a friend would tell, so we can talk about it."

Like a friend. Mark scratches the back of his neck. "I'll think about it, Adam. All right?"

Adam falters. He ducks his chin and nods. "All right. Did I upset you?"

"No, Adam, I just - I need to think of a good answer for you."

That makes him blink. "Does that mean a lie?"

"I've lied a lot in my life," Mark says after a moment. "I'd like to remember something that's true." Adam is so expressive. Mark sees the instant he understands him; the subsequent concern. Mark smiles sadly and turns away.

"Start with something you like," he suggests.

"Football," Mark says before he can overthink it.

"American or European?" He bites back a smile at Mark's expression.

"European," Mark says.

"I like that one better too," Adam nods very seriously.

"Why's that?"

"Less... hitting," Adam shudders. Mark can't help but smile.

"Fair." It makes him feel dirty though, stained with old blood that Adam could never imagine. He doesn't need to know. "Is that enough for now?" he murmurs.

Adam nods. "I have to finish packing."

Mark lets him go, and wonders what to fucking do with himself. He decides to go out and walk the building perimeter again. It'll do him good to get some air. One positive aspect to California that he thinks even Adam might agree with. He lets him know he's going, and heads out.

*

The two of them make it through one more quiet day and restless night. Mark steals a few more hours' sleep in the late afternoon and again in the early morning hours. Adam moves around him quietly at all times, sometimes talking, mostly working. His eyes get heavier the deeper into the recoding he gets.

Mark makes him a cup of tea and carries it to him, and he looks up with a sleepy smile of thanks that makes Mark's chest clench a little. "I've done the first part," he says, in a small voice. He takes a sip and sighs in content. "That's good, thank you."

"You're welcome, Adam." He sits back at his own laptop. Adam looks at his watch.

"The grocery delivery is late," he observes, with what is apparently mild annoyance.

Mark looks at his watch too, then his security cameras. "Are you hungry? I can make us some sandwiches."

Adam perks up at that. Sandwiches, Mark has learned, are the only food Adam will eat at lunch time without considerable persuasion. "Okay."

"Keep working on your file, I'll bring it out to you."

Mark gets distracted by a message on his phone that had come in while he sat at the desk with Adam and watched a squirrel scour Adam's balcony for seeds. He goes into the kitchen and opens it up, clicking through to decode it. It's just an update from Brown on the progress investigating Adam's workplace for leaks. He starts tapping a reply. Distantly, he hears the door: groceries. He hears Adam greet the driver, then a pause.

"No thank you," Adam says, then louder, "No! I do not need help!"

Mark drops what he's doing and unholsters his gun from his waistband as he goes into the hall. The delivery man is inside the door, trying to back Adam against a wall. Adam's arms are wrapped around a brown paper bag and he looks terrified.

Mark growls, "Get out," advancing with gun drawn. The man tries again to grab Adam, only to find himself with an armful of groceries as Adam shoves the bag at him. _Good boy._

Mark intercepts; a punch to the throat, the delivery man grabs his shirt and they crash into the wall. "Adam, get into the other room," Mark grits, breaking the man's grip with an elbow to the ribs. The man headbutts him; he avoids the worst of it but feels a flash of pain in his nose, a trickle of blood.

A door slams behind him, and Mark thinks _good boy_ again before he grabs the delivery man's jaw and snaps his neck, letting him slump back down onto the hall floor with a sick _thunk_ of deadweight. Quickly, he searches the man, taking a phone, knife, and handgun out of his pockets. Then he carries the body back out to the delivery truck by the curb, drops it in the back, and drives the truck down the street to abandon it.

He wonders what happened to the real delivery boy as he heads back to the apartment. Hopefully the man had only stolen the truck. Letting himself back into the condo, he calls to Adam and starts to clean up the sack of groceries. There's no response. Mark listens, hoping he hasn't bolted.

He forces himself to work quickly, cleaning the hall and packing away the confiscated weapons and his own belongings.

"Adam," he calls again, "it's time for that go-bag now." Silence again. He sets down his things and goes upstairs quietly, listening closely. "Adam," he says softly, "may I come in?"

No noise. He opens the bedroom door slowly, peering inside. Adam is standing against the wall behind the door, hands over his ears and his eyes tight shut.

"Adam," he repeats one more time, loud enough to penetrate. He knows what a defense mechanism looks like. "I'm going to touch you now." Adam flinches but doesn't resist when Mark leads him away from the wall carefully. He looks at the chair by the bed, where a duffle bag rests with a phone charger coiled on top of it. He tucks the cord into a side pocket and picks it up. "I'm assuming this is all you need. We'll get your laptop downstairs. Put shoes on, Adam."

Adam does, silent and anxiously clumsy, his face a little pink where he's been holding his breath. He lets himself be steered outside and into Mark's rental. Mark locks up and loads their bags into the trunk, driving out of Adam's neighborhood with a wary eye on his mirrors. Adam has started to fidget, hands patting and picking at his pant knees.

Mark doesn't speak, not until it's clear that they're not being followed. Then he pulls over into a shopping center parking lot and parks the car. "Adam, tell me what's wrong."

"H - he was in my house," Adam squeaks.

"I know. I know, but he's not now." Mark reaches out, then stops himself touching him again, remembering the flinch. "I took care of it. That's what I'm here for, you're safe and we're going to a safe house."

"I want to go to my house," Adam says quietly. He doesn't sound childish, he sounds tired.

"You can't. I'm sorry. We can't go back there until we've figured out who's responsible for that man."

"Did you ask him?" Adam frowns. "Where is he now? Did he get away?"

Mark sighs. "He didn't get away. I'll have Brown's men come collect him."

Adam looks at him, finally. He seems distracted for a second by the sight of Mark's face. "You're hurt - you need…"

"It's nothing." He can feel that the blood has dried.

Adam is digging in his bag. He produces some wet wipes and a pack of tissues and hands them over to Mark, watching him expectantly. Mark bites the inside of his cheek and takes them; studies his reflection in the rearview mirror and dabs at his skin.

"I used to get nosebleeds a lot at school," Adam says, flatly. He bites his lip. "Does it hurt? I have painkillers too."

Mark can't remember the last time something on his body hasn't hurt. "I'm fine. Thank you." He tucks the dirtied wipes into the door pocket and checks his phone again. "We have about an hour drive. Do you need anything?"

Adam antses a bit again in his seat, then shakes his head, subsiding to look out the window. "Would you like to listen to the radio?" Mark asks, unsure if Adam's headphones made it into his bag. He hopes so.

"I have some podcasts on my iPod," Adam says, brightening.

"All right. Or rest, I'll let you know when we're there."

"I can put them through the AV," Adam says, sounding downright enthusiastic about the idea.

"Whatever you like," Mark says easily.

Adam sets it up. A guest lecture starts from some university professor or something. Mark half listens, winding down the window and lighting a cigarette at a stop light. Adam makes a disapproving noise. Mark glances at him.

"Smoking is responsible for twenty percent of deaths in American males, y'know," Adam says, affecting nonchalance.

"What are the statistics for Europeans?" Mark asks dryly.

"Thirteen per cent of adults over thirty," Adam says immediately, "as of the year 2012."

Mark snorts softly. "I think there are things more likely to kill me," he murmurs. "But if it bothers you, I'll wait."

"Why add to the list, then?" Adam says, echoing his tone.

"At least I get some enjoyment out of it." Adam's face turns dubious. Mark flicks the cigarette out the window and rolls it back up. "Fine," he mutters.

A glance at Adam shows his cheeks flushed pink. It immediately extinguishes the annoyance. Mark sucks the taste of smoke out of his teeth.

"Happy now?" he asks. Fucking astrophysics on the sound system, no smoking, and a boy full of blushing in the passenger seat. Perfect.

"Yes," Adam mumbles.

Mark nods. "Okay. Good. That's good." He doesn't know how he's going to answer Adam if he asks about the false delivery driver again. He's hoping to hear from Brown or Lena by the time they arrive at the safe house. The thought of telling the truth feels unclean to imagine. He's beyond sick of killing, resentful of every body he's forced to add to his count. Sick of it being the first thought he has when it comes to conflict. He wants to stop. But how many times has he wanted to stop and utterly failed to follow through?

Beside him, Adam fishes his MacBook out of his bag and opens it up. "What are you doing?" Mark asks politely.

"Oh - working. Is that all right?"

"Just remember to stay off the net," Mark says, even though it feels ridiculous. Adam understands.

"No, I _know_ ," Adam says, "the code is in text files - I can't access the net right now anyway."

"I'm just - I'm sorry, Adam. Just ignore me."

Adam's quiet might be surprised. "It's okay... I know you're just - protective."

"Yes," Mark sighs, acknowledging it.

"I promise I wouldn't do anything to - to jeopardize your work," Adam says, opening up his coding documents.

"In a way," Mark muses, "it's good they used your grocery delivery. Bad someone was able to track it, but that way they could only send one person."

"So what? Now things are going to get worse?"

"Let's hope not."

Adam shrugs at his screen. His shoulders are up around his ears. Mark reaches over briefly to touch one. Adam looks at him questioningly.

"Please try to relax."

"I can't help it. There's a lot happening."

"I know," Mark murmurs.

Silence falls. He lets him work while he drives, glancing in the rear view every now and then. They're safe - at least as safe as he can reasonably make them. Not too far now.

The sun is still high when they get to the house. It's just an unassuming rental, identical to every other house in the row, furnished sparsely but adequately. Mark is still nervous to let Adam see it. He looks nervous too, glancing at Mark as they collect their bags and go inside. It's clear that being in a strange place makes him deeply uncomfortable.

"Shall I show you around?"

Adam blows out a slow breath. "Yes, all right."

Mark leads him from the hall to the kitchen; adjoining living area, beige and plain. Adam swallows a few times, hugging himself tightly.

"How long do we have to stay here?"

"I don't know," Mark replies.

Adam skitters, and then takes a breath like he's struggling to remember to breathe. He nods in acknowledgment. Then he turns away from him, like he's trying to remove him from his mental list of things to be concerned about for a minute.

Mark lets him explore. He's not entirely happy with how shaky Adam looks, like he's liable to run away at any moment. He won't be able to allow that. He doesn't want to frighten him.

"Do you want a cup of tea, Adam?"

"Is there tea?"

"I had an agent stock the cupboards for us," Mark says gently.

Adam looks around again fleetingly, then he nods. "Okay." He follows Mark into the kitchen and sits at the table.

He makes tea for them both - he could use the caffeine now he's not allowed a fucking cigarette - and peers through the faint crack in the blinds. The agent will have surveilled the area, but Mark won't feel secure until he's done the same. There's no one around so far, so he forces himself to sit with Adam. He watches him sip his tea and close his eyes on a sigh.

"Talk to me?"

"What about?"

"Anything," Adam sighs. "Have you thought of anything else you like?"

Mark thinks about it. He frowns. "I like... reading."

"So do I," Adam says. "Mostly about science, or computers. And mythology."

"Mythology, huh?" Mark tilts his head. "Why's that?"

"Constellations. I wanted to learn the stories."

Figures. "Tell me some?"

"Now?" Adam looks thoughtful.

"Sure." He picks up his tea again.

Adam looks at a loss, but Mark suspects it's because he doesn't know where to start. "My program Perseus is named after the Perseid meteor shower," Adam says eventually. "Which are named after the constellation in which they're located." He hesitates for a moment but eventually seems to decide against elaborating on that. "You've heard of the hero Perseus?"

"I have." Mark nods.

"Well, then I won't tell you that one. I'll tell you about Hercules instead."

"I've heard of him, I don't know anything about him," Mark chuckles a bit. He gets a quick flash of blue eyes, like Adam is trying to tell if he's lying. Which of course he is.

"Do you want me to tell you or not?"

He'd rather Adam be annoyed than scared, overall. "Please tell me."

Adam nods, perching on the edge of the table. Mark lets the words wash over him. Adam's capacity for retaining information is seemingly inexhaustible. Mark can see how he's so good at what he does. It's somewhat humbling to behold an actual genius. Even if the genius seems slightly annoyed at him because - oh. He asked a question. His brows drawing, his mouth going straight and thin in thought, Mark waits for him to repeat himself.

As expected, the answers are endearingly thorough. Mark is a bit concerned that the word endearing keeps popping up. Kid isn't a puppy, and he can't fucking keep him. Not that he has anything Adam would ever want or need.

At the alarming line of thought, Mark stands.

"This is very interesting, Adam, and I'd like to hear more, but I've got to just do my checks, okay?"

Adam stops talking immediately and nods, eyes wide. Mark gives him what he hopes is a reassuring pat on the shoulder as he goes. He lights up a cigarette on the porch. There's not much to check. All quiet out here, still. Unless they were followed the entire way from Adam's condo, which... Mark goes to check the rental car for bugs. Just in case. Nothing. No idling cars or scope flares from windows. No transmitters under the car. Nothing. They're as safe as he can make them.

He makes himself go back inside. Adam is working again. Good. As long as he can keep calm, they'll be fine here.

"We never got to eat lunch," Adam says, when he notices Mark again.

"No, we didn't. I guess I owe you a sandwich," Mark smiles.

"I can make it if you're - checking." He makes a face like he's not sure exactly what it is Mark is doing. He thinks he might be joking.

"I can take a break from checking," Mark says solemnly. Adam smiles at the tabletop. It was a joke, the sly thing. Mark doesn't know why he's so pleased by the realization. Maybe because it means he hasn't traumatized the poor kid completely. He seems to have forgotten about - or elected not to push the subject of - the man who attacked them. Good, Mark thinks.

Adam gets up to come help with lunch, occupying himself with buttering bread precisely. Mark accepts each piece carefully and makes their sandwiches.

"I - this isn't as hard as I thought it was going to be," Adam says, quietly.

"Good," Mark murmurs. He gives him a quick smile and watches him cut the crusts off his sandwiches with amusement.

"Would you like me to do yours?"

Mark watches him for a second, then nods. "Sure, Adam." Mark pours them both a drink and waits at the table. When he tries the sandwich, he fancies that it actually does taste better. Probably psychosomatic.

Adam smiles as he watches him eat it. "You don't have to humor me, you know," he says. It's not accusatory, there's helpful intent behind it. "I'm not a kid, I'm not going to be upset if you don't like what I like. Not many people do."

"No harm in trying it, is there?"

"No," Adam looks down at his plate and fidgets a bit. Mark says his name softly. Adam looks up at him, expectant.

"Don't let me treat you like a kid," Mark tells him. "Tell me if I am."

"Okay." Adam smiles again. Mark feels it reflected in his own face.

Shit, this is bad. He's being foolish. He's being fucking unprofessional. Look where that got him last time. Nearly dead and on the hook for a million euros' worth of guilt, is where.

"Mark?" Adam watches him, his face gone nervous.

"Sorry," Mark sighs. "I'm tired."

"You should sleep."

"Maybe I should."

Adam nods. "If you want, I can watch the feeds."

Mark thinks it over. "You don't have to do that. We're okay."

"I can, though. If it will make you feel better."

Mark sighs softly. "All right." He opens his laptop and calls up the surveillance cameras.

Adam smiles at him again, bright and pleased to be helping him. "I can watch them easily while I work," he says. "You sleep and I will make us tea later."

Mark watches him again for a moment, stalled by the feeling inside him. He nods. "All right. I'll just be an hour."

"Might as well take longer. I can wake you if I need you."

They both stare for a moment, at an impasse. "All right." Mark nods. "I'll sleep as long as I can." It's a mingled feeling of relief and guilt.

He goes upstairs to one of the sparse IKEA bedrooms and lies down. The thought of Adam downstairs, diligently studying the feeds, makes him sigh. He's so good. Mark can't remember the last time he's met someone like that. He puts it out of his mind and tries to sleep. It's easy enough - he's working on no more than three hours a night.

When he wakes, it's to the sound of shuffling footsteps and the door closing. He can smell the tea before he opens his eyes. Fuck. He's too good. Mark tries to think of something nice to do in return. Stop him getting kidnapped and tortured works.

He sits up and sips the tea, and decides to take a shower before he goes back downstairs.

When he does return to the kitchen with his tea, Adam is still typing. "Hi."

"Thanks for the drink, Adam."

"It's all right." He goes back to his work with such concentration that Mark is sure he's been forgotten. He fidgets a bit, not sure what to do. Adam peeks at him over the top of his laptop. "Do you want to borrow my iPod?"

"No, it's - it's all right. Thank you." He needs to check in. He takes his phone and his cigarettes outside. It calms him slightly, until he thinks of Adam making his little face in the car. He'll just have one.

Jesus. What is he doing. It's a bit late in his life to be developing this kind of empathy – the same kind of empathy Adam has - when he spent so long being, well. The kind of person who snaps necks with no remorse. Too long out of the game. He'd set up his retirement in France, doing nothing but reading books and fixing up the house he bought. Flirting with his neighbor's wife. Why not. Most women he's met in France seem willing to be gently flirted with. A fair portion of men, too. It keeps him from feeling like a sociopath, at any rate. Some of them didn't seem like they'd mind going further. Unfortunately, Mark wasn't quite at that level yet.

Here, he has neither a book nor a home repair project. Just a boy with blue eyes and an air of vulnerability, and a heart as big as a universe. He puts the cigarettes away and calls Lena.

"Mark. How's it going?"

"The place seems secure and well - stocked, thank you. I'm sure you were responsible for that."

"The least I could do," she says amicably.

"How badly is Brown fucking up the investigation?" Mark asks dryly.

"Admirably, as far as I can tell."

"Are you sure I'm not better served by assisting there?"

"If you're finding it tedious, we can arrange for Mr. Raki to change hands."

"No," he says quickly.

"All right." She sounds curious at that. He doesn't intend to satisfy her curiosity.

"Mr. Raki is nervous enough without having that kind of stress," he mutters.

"I see."

"His grocery man just attacked him," Mark says dryly.

"Not his real grocery man," Lena says. "He just stole the truck. Found the usual driver in an alley near the depot."

"I know not his real grocery man," Mark snaps.

"Tense, Mark? It was just a bit of a joke."

"I have a civilian here who was never made aware that his job would put national security under strain, not to mention his life, I can't help but find it humorless."

He hears her sigh. "All right. I will put pressure on the investigation. I don't suppose before you broke your assailant's neck, you thought to ask him who he worked for?"

"We didn't have time to chat."

"Typical," she sighs.

Mark sighs too. "You knew who you were sending in." That gives him pause. "Why me, Lena? Why this? It must be big, for you to pull me over here."

"Our agency has relationships to maintain."

"I doubt bringing me in will benefit you in that endeavor."

"You are the most efficient agent I know. Even after everything."

"I'm also retired, and I live in Europe."

"Need I remind you, Mark - "

"That I gave someone a million Euros, blah blah blah." He pinches the bridge of his nose.

"You've never told me why, you know. And don't try to say she stole it."

Mark looks at the darkening sky. He sets his jaw. "I killed her family."

Lena sighs. "It happens."

"Her kid sister, too," Mark whispers. He swallows, then. "She was only a kid."

"And that is worth a million?"

"It's worth more."

They both sigh together. Lena charitably doesn't point out that he could have given her a million of _his_ fucking Euros if he felt so bad. After all, isn't he owed something? He suspects she likes having him over this particular barrel, anyway.

"I'd like to enjoy my retirement before I die," he tells her.

"And you will. I promise you."

Mark peers in the windows of the house, searching for movement. He can see Adam still at the table. He's peering at Mark's laptop every now and again. "Good boy," Mark mumbles.

"What was that?" Lena asks.

"Nothing. Sorry. I should probably go."

"All right. Keep me posted as things develop, and I'll do the same."

Mark agrees and disconnects the call. He goes back into the kitchen with his tea. Adam is already looking up when he comes in.

"All right?" Mark asks.

Adam nods. "You said - I could use your phone?"

"Yes, of course." He unlocks it and hands it over.

Adam stands up. "May I go upstairs?"

Mark gestures; _be my guest_. He watches him go; listens to the distant, nasal whine of his voice as the call connects. Whoever is on the other line - this Harlan he keeps mentioning probably - seems to be nearly as talkative as Adam. It's good he's got someone. His file had been thin in the 'relatives' file.

Mark's attention drifts until he hears Adam's voice spike. It's that nervous bleat he'd given earlier at the door, like he can't control the pitch and volume anymore. Mark is on his feet before he realizes. He hares up the stairs - something in Adam's plaintive little noises makes him fear another attack, even though he couldn't see anything on the feeds.

"Adam," he calls. He goes to the other bedroom; finds Adam clutching his own face again. The phone is on the floor, several feet away. "Adam - " Mark freezes in front of him, afraid to make him worse but not wanting to leave him alone with his panic. He drops to his knees in front of him.

Adam is muttering, and whimpering. Mark does all he can think of and touches his shoulders gently to rouse him.

"Adam, it's okay, please calm down... " He barely dodges the swing at him, and goes sprawling.

"It's not okay, it's not, don't touch me, don't - " Adam covers his face again and breathes hard and frantic.

"I'm sorry," Mark mumbles. "You're safe, Adam. I promise you are." He kneels up, watching him closely, twitching and wringing his hair and fighting it. Some training, some kind of memory finds its way to the surface of Mark's mind. "Adam, breathe for me, okay? Breathe, and make a square with your arms."

It must get through, at least a bit. Adam doesn't calm down right away, but he crosses his arms and rocks and makes another pitiful sound of fear. "It's not - it's too much, I want to go home, I don't like it here."

"I can't do that," Mark murmurs.

"I want to go home!" Adam repeats, plaintive.

"Not yet," Mark repeats, miserable. "Keep breathing. You're okay. Keep breathing."

Adam makes a disgruntled noise. "You think I'm being stupid."

"No, I don't." Mark frowns. "I don't know what you're being. I need you to tell me."

"I don't know - if I can - "

"Take your time. Does touching you make it better or worse?"

"Sometimes better - sometimes worse, worse now," Adam rubs his eyes in distress.

"Okay, I'm sorry I did that. I won't do it again."

"It's - it's okay." Adam grips his own elbows, still rocking, expression pinched like he's concentrating hard.

"Can you tell me what happened on the phone?" Mark murmurs.

"Ha - Harlan was - he wanted to know where I was and - who - "

"Who you were with? What did you tell him?"

"I didn't know - I'm - I'm bad at lying but you said... " Mark waits, and Adam flushes. "I didn't tell him where we were, and he was unhappy with me. But I told him about you."

"All right. That's fine. And then what happened?" Mark wants to know what triggered this, the nerves, the frantic panic.

"H - he asked if you were a police officer and I said no, and then he kept asking questions, and I - what did you really do to the man?" He looks up. His eyes are wet.

Mark knew this would come back. He sighs. "I - it's my job to protect you. He attacked you and I stopped him."

"Stopped - "

"I killed him. That's what I do, Adam, that's my job - but I'm not going to hurt you. I had to kill him to protect you. Do you understand?"

"Do I understand? Or do I approve?"

"You don't have to approve, I have a job to do." Their eyes meet for a moment. Mark sees fear. He swallows. "Adam, can I sit by you?"

Adam takes a moment to nod. Mark perches next to him on the end of the bed and looks at him.

"Tell me why you're upset, and what I can help you with."

"He died because of me. This is all because of me." He gasps a breath, a tiny hiccup.

"No, Adam," Mark reaches out and - at his little, stuttering nod - touches Adam's knee gently. "He died because he tried to hurt you. He would have kidnapped you and made you use Perseus to hurt people. I killed him to protect you and a lot of other people." Adam, body tense, bows his head. His curls just brush Mark's neck. Mark swallows a few times. He closes his eyes. "I'm sorry that it's hard."

"I know you are," Adam whispers.

Mark feels the horrible compulsion to hold him. He keeps it to himself. "I will try to avoid doing it again, if possible."

"Good, that's - good."

Mark nods. "Is there anything else?"

He hears Adam take a deep breath. He shakes his head, still hugging himself, looking so weary that Mark hurts for him.

"Is this going to affect things between us?" Mark asks. "I can call for a replacement."

"N - no, no, don't. I don't want another stranger."

Mark takes a deep breath. "All right. Remember you are the important one here, Adam."

Adam looks dubious at that, but he nods. "I'm tired," he sighs.

"You should sleep. We could get dinner when you wake up."

"That's not - I need to work, not nap."

"You'll work better if you're well rested. Today has been stressful, Adam." Their eyes meet again, Mark thinks with equal stubbornness.

"I can just go to bed early."

"If you like."

Adam scowls a bit and rubs his eyes. "Stop telling me to do what I like unless you really mean it."

Mark sighs. "I do mean it."

"Except for leaving. I'm not allowed to do that."

"I've made it clear you're not allowed to do that."

"Yes. Very clear."

It's Mark's turn to rub his eyes. He hates that he feels cruel. "Adam, I'm trying to protect you."

"I know." Adam is prompt with his replies. Nearly emotionless. But Mark can still feel him trembling lightly.

"Tell me what to do to make it better."

"I don't know that, Mark."

"Okay." He's at a loss.

He's torn between professionalism and a protectiveness that is... not that. After a few minutes, something whirs to a stop in his brain.

"Will we be able to see your meteorite showers from here? You said it was this weekend, right?"

"I can calculate a viewing spot if I can access the Internet."

"Use my phone to do it."

Adam nods a few times. "Yes. I will let you know where we have to go."

"All right. Do you want some time alone, Adam?"

"No, but I would like us to be quiet. Is that okay?"

A sudden, rushing fondness rising in him, Mark simply nods. Adam smiles, watery and small but genuine. It's a beautiful smile. He retrieves Mark's phone and spends a little while tapping, and then he smiles and hands it back with a location programmed into the GPS.

"It's not too far, but the message board says to get there early to stake out a good viewing spot."

"All right," Mark agrees softly, "we'll go soon, and pick up food on the way?"

Adam nods. "Picnics were recommended."

Fuck it. Adam needs a distraction, they both need not to be cooped up in this house. It's better to keep moving, in some ways. Decided, Mark nods.

"Need a minute before we go?"

Adam nods, and Mark settles into the beige couch cushions to wait. He watches him slowly grow still from his frantic movements of before. It's almost unreal, how lovely he is. Mark certainly isn't supposed to be noticing. He just... feels protective. Adam is his responsibility.

He takes a breath, and lets Adam's slow calm bring him down too. He can see how hard-won it is, even if he can't feel it in himself. Eventually, Adam stands.

"Shall we go?"

Mark nods and picks up his backpack. He has supplies in the car for if any crises should arise. And his gun, of course, though he will try not to use it. At least if Adam is around. He's unexpectedly looking forward to whatever this star event really is, though. He thinks maybe this is what retirement ought to be like.

They drive out to the hills, with Adam carefully reading out directions from the cell phone. A quick stop at a small grocery store yields a bag of readymade food. It's only quick for Mark's adaptability. The amount of restrictions Adam applies to snack food is frankly alarming. And Mark has no wish to agitate him. He's not picky at all; could never afford to be.

With Adam happy and traffic quiet, it's not long before they arrive. Adam was right; there are already people sitting on the hillside. He's grateful when Adam steers him toward a more secluded spot. He's not at all surprised, though.

He watches him set out a towel in lieu of a picnic blanket. Then he sits down carefully and adjusts the cuffs of his sweater, smiling up at Mark.

"You can sit here."

Mark resists saying something sarcastic. "Thank you." He lowers himself carefully onto the other end of the towel and sets the grocery bag between their feet.

Settling, Adam gets out a bag of Skittles and opens them up, offering the box to Mark politely.

"Not right now, thank you."

"Okay." He doesn't look perturbed. Instead, he looks thoughtful. "You should try to enjoy things more," he pronounces softly.

"I'm not sure a Skittle is on the list."

Adam's face falls just slightly. Then he shakes his head as if to clear it. "I forgot you were working, Mark."

That stings, for some reason. He is, of course. Protecting Adam is absolutely his first priority. "Working doesn't mean I'm not happy to be here," he offers.

Adam looks sweetly skeptical. "I guess you are getting paid," he quips, a little dry.

"Not exactly," Mark mutters, finding himself reaching for a handful of Skittles after all.

"You're not?"

"I am, but. It's a long story, Adam."

"We have a while before it starts."

Mark sighs. "I'm not sure it's appropriate. I don't want to affect your confidence in me."

Adam keeps looking at him, expectant.

He sighs. "I lost a rather large sum of my agency's money a while back. I'm working off my debt. I get paid, but not at the usual rate."

"Lost it?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"Which manner?"

"The kind where I failed to reclaim it from someone I had previously wronged."

"Oh. I bet that got you in trouble," Adam says, matter-of-fact as he chews.

"It didn't get me dead, at least."

"Well no," Adam's voice runs into nervous laughter.

Mark sighs. Too blunt. "We're not going to die, Adam, you know that right?"

"Everyone dies at some point," he says, presumably just to be fussy. When Mark catches his eye, he's smiling a very small, strained smile.

"Today is not your day," he murmurs. "Today we watch your meteor shower and admire how beautiful the universe can be."

He feels Adam's eyes on him for a long moment after. He means it.

"It is beautiful," Adam says finally. "Some of it."

"I guess those are the parts that matter."

They sit in silence for another moment. Mark does appreciate how Adam doesn't seem to mind silence, though he does tend toward nervous talking as well. Eventually, it starts - about the meteorite shower, mostly. Mark notices a nearby couple listening in, after a while. He watches them both closely until they look away. Probably harmless. Let them think he's an overprotective older brother or something.

Not that they look much alike. Overprotective boyfriend is really the only other option. It makes him smile, humorless and tired. Yeah right. He tunes back in before Adam frets at him for his inattention.

Too late though - he's frowning softly, looking at Mark's chin. "I'm sorry, I'm talking too much."

"No, Adam; not at all."

"You looked - distracted."

"Unprofessional of me," he murmurs.

"You're not here to listen to me."

"Impolite, then."

"It's okay."

It's not, though. Mark doesn't feel like it is.

"People get distracted a lot when I talk," Adam explains.

"I wouldn't, if I didn't have this job distracting me." It sounds mollifying, but it's the truth, he thinks. "Please, Adam. Tell me more."

"What would you like to know, Mark?"

"Tell me about you. How did you get into this stuff? Your dad used to take you?"

Adam nods. "Yes, to the planetarium, and out with our telescopes, it was something we could do together and it helped me too, the quiet, the dark."

"What did he do for a living?"

"US Navy warrant officer, retired," Adam rattles off as if he's heard it a thousand times before.

Mark smiles. That explains the faded US flag folded on Adam's bookcase. And possibly a few things about Adam's neatness, as well.

"What did your father do?" Adam asks - then adds, "You don't have to tell me. I'd just rather you didn't lie."

"It's all right," Mark says. "He was a factory worker. So was my mother."

"That's pretty broad."

"He was a welder on the assembly line; they made small engines. Mum was a janitor. It's where they met."

"Oh." Soft and considering, like he's imagining it. "My mom worked at a café for a while, but after my parents got married, I was born - and then I guess my mom got sick."

"You were very young when she died?"

"Eight," he supplies.

Mark nods. "And your dad? Is that when he retired from the Navy?"

"He had to, to take care of my mom - he did freelance accounting after that."

Mark nods thoughtfully. He wonders what Adam's upbringing was like. He seems to have a deep affection for his father, but he's a mystery beyond that. Mark wishes he wasn't, which is odd. He's learned the lesson of attachment too many times. Apparently, he needs one more reminder.

Above them, the first flare of streaming light above the great empty desert that stretches out before them. Adam passes him a pair of binoculars from his backpack, and Mark is struck by him putting two pairs in his go bag. Touched, even.

He looks up, and listens to Adam's soft inhale of shocked delight. He can barely remember to look at the sky. Though it's quite spectacular when he does. He can't help his surprised breath.

"It's a completely once in a lifetime phenomenon," Adam says softly beside him, "scientists have predicted its passing to the minute."

Mark makes an encouraging noise. "Incredible," he agrees.

Adam falls silent; watching. When Mark looks, he seems literally starstruck.

"I'm glad I'm with someone who appreciate it," Mark murmurs.

"Uh-huh." He's still looking. No nervous talking now. Just staring. Mark can't take his eyes off him. He’s beautiful.

He shakes his head; diverts instead to looking around again. Everyone around them is equally as rapt; except for one couple who are only interested in one another. Their closeness looks so easy. Mark doesn't often indulge in wondering what it might be like to live that life - free from horror - but he can't help it now. He can only let himself relax a fraction, even knowing no one is paying them undue attention.

Adam leans back further to look up, and his shoulder hits Mark's. Mark automatically steadies him with an arm around his waist. That startles him, and he looks at Mark, a surprised smile on his face.

"Thank you, Mark," he whispers.

"That's all right - sorry I didn't ask." He extracts his arm.

"No, it's -" Adam bites his lip. "Okay." At Mark's surprised silence, he laughs, gaze hovering around Mark's chin. "I liked it. Did - is that okay?"

"Sure," Mark soothes automatically. He's got an unexpected feeling rising in his chest. _No, Mark,_ he tells himself.

Something must show - or not show - on his face, because Adam's turns uncertain. "Watch," Adam says, nudging the binoculars in his hand. "It will be over before long."

Glad for the excuse, Mark does. He allows himself to relax into the sight, his anticipation of danger settling into a single hum of tension at the base of his spine. It really is spectacular. Beside him, Adam is still and intent again. When the sky quiets, he lowers his binoculars, starting to fidget intently with the lanyard on them.

"You'll take me back to the house now?" he says, watching his own fingers.

Mark looks around, watching the others starting to gather their things. "You don't want to go back?"

"I thought maybe - but we don't have a good telescope," he corrects himself, shaking his head from side to side. "Yes, let's go back. I want to go back."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. I can't show you the stars without proper equipment, it would be counterproductive."

"All right then."

He helps pack up the remains of their snacks while Adam folds the towel carefully. Then he treats Mark to a monologue - mostly - on how he and his father had first gotten to know Harlan, the family friend who, Mark remembers, is entirely unhappy about Adam's presence in Mark's protection.

They'd met in the Navy, and Harlan had helped get Adam his first real job at a toy company near his own business premises. Adam makes a brief digression into his time in the toy business, which is fascinating mostly for its incongruity with what he knows of Adam's interests. "And then I got fired, but it worked out okay."

"Sometimes it does," Mark agrees, since Adam has paused. It gets him a boyish little grin. But it flickers away as quickly as it appears, and Adam goes quiet again. They're almost back at the car now, and Mark, still feeling the fingers of attachment like a peeling skin, prompts Adam with more questions about the meteor shower.

He all too happily obliges Mark. It eases away the moment of mutual tension almost completely, though Mark hasn't forgotten. He's completely perplexed by himself. He's losing his stomach for this job, he thinks. If only Lena wouldn't call him again.

Gotten soft during his time alone, refurbishing his house and watching TV with coffee at night. Things he's enjoyed, despite the solitude. He doesn't miss it as much as he might, currently. Adam is... good company.

Currently, he's still chattering about his life. An ex, his father, his job at the observatory. He doesn't mention much about Perseus - or when it comes up, he clams up. "I'm not sure how much I'm actually allowed to tell you."

"That's all right, Adam. It's good that you're exercising caution."

He makes a small, sad face. "I was before, too."

"Hey, I know that," Mark assures gently, "the security breach isn't your fault."

"I know. But you still don't know who, and that makes me upset."

"We're working on leads." It reminds him that he needs to check in with Lena again. He'll do it when they get back. First he's going to make Adam and himself some tea. But when they pull back up to the house, he sets a hand on Adam's arm to stop him getting out of the car as he stares at the ajar kitchen window: something is wrong. Adam goes absolutely still in the passenger seat. "Change of plan, Adam," Mark says, as calmly as he can.

"What change of plan?" Adam's voice is tight.

"We're going to have to go to a new safe house. Do you have your work with you?"

"My laptop is in my messenger bag," Adam jerks as if to get out of the car. Mark holds him still.

"Where is it?"

"D-dining room," Adam stutters, hands balling up in the hem of his shirt.

Mark looks around, a plan spooling into place. "Stay in the car. Keep the doors locked. I'll go in and get it. Stay low and absolutely do not leave the vehicle," he orders softly, waiting for Adam to nod. Then he shuts the car off and hands Adam the keys. Adam's hands are trembling and Mark - can't stay.

He lets himself out of the car and nods when he hears an immediate click. Then he slinks toward a side window - the dining room. He peers inside. The messenger bag is sitting neatly on the dining room table, just where Adam said. Mark is sure the laptop is packed inside with its meticulously wrapped cord, as well.

Fast, or quiet - Mark weighs his two choices, then picks up a rock from the flowerbed and smashes the window glass. He vaults inside, glass crunching under his feet, and seizes the bag. He can feel the shape of the laptop inside it even as he registers footsteps upstairs. He makes the smart choice and climbs back out of the window, racing around the side of the house and toward the car. "Adam!" he shouts, diving for the door.

The locks click again and he falls inside, fumbling for the keys and dumping the bag into Adam's lap.

He spares only a glance at Adam before rocketing them down the driveway in reverse. They have a head start and he's not about to lose it.

Adam is quiet for a long time before he eventually pipes up, "Was there someone in the house?"

"Someone was in the house, but they hadn't gotten around to the dining room yet," Mark says tightly. "Is it okay?"

Adam looks up from his inspection of the bag. "Everything is in here. We left our clothes," he complains weakly.

"I know, I’m sorry," Mark says quietly, but it's been a long time since he's had a shred of attachment to anything he's worn.

"But - I don't have anything to sleep in," Adam starts, shifting anxiously in his seat, "and my toothbrush - "

"We'll stop somewhere for supplies," Mark replies, "and then find a motel." When Adam's silence maintains its worried edge, Mark adds, "We'll come back when it's safe and collect your things."

That's a big assumption, but Adam doesn't know that. He can send someone when all this is over. Meanwhile, he needs to get them somewhere safe. He takes out his phone and calls Lena while they drive.

"Mark," she greets him softly.

"Lena, our safe house has been compromised, I'm going to take Adam off the grid, I need to swap cars and I need a new address - I think we need to leave California."

Faint tapping through the phone. "There is a rental place about five miles away, they're open for another half hour. I'm reserving you a car under the name of Mike Smith."

"Much appreciated, Lena. Let me know the next address."

"I'll text it to you. Head toward Nevada."

"Thank you, talk soon." He hangs up and passes his phone to Adam. "Please can you put in the address for the closest rental place?"

Adam bites his lip, but nods. He clips the phone into the holder on the dash when he's done, following the route shown. Adam is tense beside him.

"Mark?" he breathes.

"Yes?"

"You're bleeding."

Mark hadn't even noticed the gash on his knuckle. "Broke a window," he mutters. "I'll clean it up later."

At the rental place, he throws a jacket over his bloody shirt and goes in to ask for the reservation for Mike Smith. He pays cash. They switch their things into the new car, and from then on it's a straight drive to the west.

Mark sets up Adam's iPod with more podcasts playing through the car speakers. It seems to calm him more effectively than any words. Mark has no problem driving though the night, but he wants Adam to get some rest. Sure enough, after a couple of hours he hears Adam's breaths even out.

He's been waiting for Lena's next text message, but when it doesn't arrive by the time he's approaching Reno, he sighs and starts watching for a decent-looking motel. There's a place that looks relatively quiet and fairly secure, too. He calls ahead and books a twin room - he doesn't want to leave Adam alone for physical or emotional security reasons.

When he gets there, he parks in front of the office and quickly strides in to pay for the room in cash. He can still see Adam through the window, starting to stir. He hurries back out to him to keep him from panicking and he's back in his seat before he wakes.

"Mhmm?" He looks around, disoriented.

"We're stopping for the night, Adam."

"Stopping where?"

"At a motel."

A little nervousness at that, but Mark sees him steel himself.

"I'm going to drive us over to the room now."

"Okay." He nods.

"I'm sorry we haven't found a store yet, but I did get toothbrushes from the office."

Adam complains softly about pajamas and bedding as they go to their room.

"It's late," Mark murmurs. "I promise we can go tomorrow." He can tell that half of the unrest is fatigue. He reaches out to squeeze his shoulder, then hesitates. Then does it anyway, before unlocking the room door.

Adam shuffles inside, looking around tiredly. "We're sharing?" he says.

"Just a room. Is that okay?"

Adam nods thoughtfully. "It isn't what I'm used to." Then he chews his lip, hands twisting together.

"You'll have your own bed, and I can leave the room if you need time alone. I can wait outside."

"I should tell you -" Adam's eyes settle somewhere in the vicinity of Mark's ear, his voice coming out quieter than normal, "that I am attracted to you, and sometimes I am not so good at social cues, but I won't be disrespectful."

Words stall up in Mark's throat. "Adam -" he forces himself to be reassuring, "I know you wouldn't be. You couldn't be."

"Okay." Adam nods. "I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."

Is he? He doesn't even know. No, that isn't what this feeling is. God, his ears are hot.

"No," he murmurs.

"Good," Adam might be blushing.

"We should get rest," Mark says after a moment.

"I guess." He sits down on the edge of one of the beds.

Mark loiters, and then sits opposite him, getting out his phone and sending a location report to Lena. He frowns at the screen, then adds, Any _idea how the safe house was discovered?_

_We'll look into it._

_You,_ he sends back.

A brief pause before her reply. _Understood._

After so many years, he knows she does. He plugs the phone into charge; gets up and starts to check the windows and closets methodically.

Adam takes one of the toothbrush sets and disappears into the bathroom. He emerges in his boxers and undershirt, clothes folded neatly and clutched to his chest. Mark's chest gives a little lurch. He watches Adam start to fuss with his bedding, ritualistic and nervous.

He wants to go over there. It's barely a _there_ , two steps away at most. Mark holds himself back. He must be professional. That's what he owes Adam.

"Are you sleeping?" Adam finally says, unsteadily.

"Not yet."

"You have to keep watch?"

"No, but I... would feel better. Just for a while."

"Okay." Adam bites his lip. "I shouldn't have said what I said," he blurts in a rush, face falling.

"No, Adam, it's okay," Mark assures him quickly. He reaches across the gap between their mattresses to touch Adam's hands; feels his stalling, anxious breath of surprise. "It's okay," he repeats, thumbs circling over his skin.

Adam stares at him, then down at their hands. A little smile touches the corner of his mouth. "You're very kind, Mark."

"Not always."

Adam looks up. "But, when it matters." This time, it's his fingers that circle lightly. Then, he pulls away, shuffling back toward his bed and turning off the lamp on his bedside before he climbs in.

It leaves Mark with a soft ache.

"Good night," Adam says quietly, settling down, the light of his cell phone lighting his face up as he plugs in his headphones and starts to look for something suitable to listen to.

Mark goes back to his silent checks, then rifles through his backpack to check supplies. Eventually, he makes himself wash up for bed and get ready to turn in. He needs a few hours of sleep to keep going. And Adam needs some normality where his world has gone mad. What Adam doesn't need is Mark roping him into a crisis of... something.

He goes to his bed and turns off the light. In his absence, Adam's cell phone screen has gone dark and he's curled away from Mark on his little bed. Mark stretches out on his back on the other with a soft sigh. He sets his alarm; closes his eyes and focuses his breathing.

*

He's only had a few hours of sleep, and it's not quite starting to get light outside, but a sudden frantic noise from the next bed wakes Mark abruptly.

"Adam - ?" He bolts up in bed, grabbing for his gun, but when he looks around the room is empty and the panic is contained only to the shape of Adam curled up under the covers. In that moment, seeing the violent heave of his back under the covers, Mark forgets all about the request not to touch. He wraps around him in a firm embrace. "Adam, it's okay," he tells him clearly, "it's okay. Listen to my voice, to what I'm telling you." There's another moment of struggle before a soft noise tells him Adam's awake. He squeezes again. "You're all right, you're with me, and we're okay."

"Mark," Adam says feebly, voice choked with miserable panic. Mark has an awful rush of tenderness for him, far from home and faced with terrifying uncertainty.

"I'm here. We're safe." For just a moment, he gives in to the urge to rest his cheek against Adam's hair. His rushed, high breaths start to slow, just barely.

"I had a bad dream," he mutters.

"Just a dream," Mark says.

"I know," a note of defensiveness, but when Mark makes to loosen his arms, Adam protests with a noise.

"It helps?" Mark murmurs.

"I have a weighted blanket at home for this."

"Okay," Mark answers. "I'll stay." He counts his own breaths in the dark of the room, keeping them steady and slow.

"Just a little longer," Adam agrees. He still sounds shaky and small.

"Just a little longer," Mark echoes. He can feel Adam twitching, picking at the covers, struggling to calm his breaths. At some point, it turns into soft counting, rhythmic and lulling. It lulls Mark too. His eyes drift closed. Maybe this way they can both get some more rest.

He only dozes an hour or so more, but when he comes to, Adam is still curled under his arm, breaths slow and even. He smiles to himself and begins to gently push himself out of bed. He'll let him sleep.

He grabs his phone and starts looking for clothing stores. That will make him happier, too.

//

When Adam stirs awake, he sits up instantly. He's in a strange place, and unsure for a moment how he managed to sleep so deeply. Then, he remembers, and he's suddenly shy. He knows telling Mark was the right thing to do, but he's not sure how it went. He couldn't decide if Mark was lying when he said it was okay. He looks around for him now, anxiety knotting his stomach.

He finds him by the light of his phone, sitting at the little round table by the still - closed curtains.

"Mark," he whispers, "are we leaving again?"

"Good morning, Adam," Mark greets him quietly. Adam is very sure that Mark was aware of him the moment he sat up.

"G - good morning."

Mark doesn't seem upset. His voice is always quiet and calm like it is now. "We are going, soon," he tells Adam softly. "Do you want a shower?"

"I don't have clean clothes," Adam says. "I'd like clean clothes to change into."

"I've found a store we can get some clothes at down the way," Mark says simply, "and I have a new location for us to stay in, so we can drive there this morning and you can change. How does that sound?"

Adam nods. "I would prefer that. Will we get food? Will we have a kitchen?"

"We'll get food. Breakfast on the road and then food to stock the house. Okay? Is there anything you need me to do to make it easier for you?"

Adam thinks about it. "I would like to call Harlan, please."

"Sure." Mark hands him the phone. Adam goes to the bathroom, sitting on the toilet lid to dial with shaky hands.

"Adam!" Harlan greets him as soon as the call connects. "I was worried."

"So was I," Adam says wearily, "I don't want you to worry about me though, I'm okay. Mark is keeping me safe."

"I certainly hope so. How long is this going to go on?"

"I don't know. How would I know that?"

"I don't know, Adam. If they told you?"

"It has a lot of variables, I don't think anyone knows. Mark would tell me if he did know."

"You seem to like this Mark a lot better than you did," Harlan comments.

Adam pauses to analyze that, swallowing. "I, yeah. I do."

"What made you change your mind?"

"He let me watch the meteorite shower, and he's attractive."

"Adam," Harlan groans.

"Yes? You're always saying I should meet more people."

"Like. At work, or online dating, not a private bodyguard."

"He's at work," Adam shrugs.

"That... doesn't actually make it better, Adam."

"I'm not a child," Adam reminds Harlan, "I'm being respectful."

"I know you are," Harlan sighs softly. "I just want you to remember that someone like that is dangerous, Adam, even if he doesn't seem it right now."

"I know," Adam says firmly.

It gets him another soft sigh. "I didn't even know you were - into guys too," Harlan ventures, sounding reluctant even so.

"I - I see no need to discriminate potential partners based on gender."

"All right, that's fine. Just be careful, okay?"

"Of course," Adam says, vaguely offended. He's always careful.

"You know I mean - try to see the whole picture Adam."

He nods. "I'll try, Harlan, I promise. I'll call you when I can."

"Bye, Adam."

"Bye."

He fidgets nervously with the phone for a while, then brushes his teeth and washes his face before he goes to rejoin Mark. He wonders if Mark could hear him.

If he could, he doesn't say anything, just starts to gather their few things and heads into the bathroom to let Adam get dressed. Adam feels himself blushing. He's ready to leave when Mark starts putting on his jacket, and they take one last look around before they head back out to the car.

Adam still has his messenger bag, and he clutches it close automatically. Mark checks over their car before he lets Adam get in. He hopes the drive won't be too long before he can change. He pats the pocket holding his wallet reassuringly.

The movement catches Mark's attention. "Okay, Adam?"

"I haven't bought new clothing in a while," he says.

"Oh? Does it make you anxious?"

"Not if the fabrics are suitable. I prefer cotton and wool." Adam thinks grouchily about the bag left behind at the safe house.

"Okay, we'll do what we can."

"You're so easy-going, Mark," Adam comments.

"It's not an imposition to make things less stressful for you."

"That isn't what most people say, you know."

"They're deficients, then."

"Deficient in what exactly?"

"Manners. Tolerance. Kindness. Pick one."

It makes Adam feel warm. "I can't just pick one," he laughs.

"Well, I assume my point has been made." Mark steers them out of the parking lot and back onto the freeway.

Nodding, Adam antses with his shirt cuffs, looking out the window for a while. "Have you ever been to Nevada before, Mark?"

"No, have you?"

Adam shakes his head. "New York City and California, that's all."

"So it'll be an adventure for both of us. Sort of like a vacation."

Adam sneaks a look over at him to see if he is making a joke. Even though he's not smiling, there's a lightness to his expression.

"Yes, Mark," Adam says agreeably. "A vacation for the two of us." It makes a funny little bubble of anticipation rise in his stomach. It mixes with the anxiety and feels something like nausea. He looks back out the window instead.

Mark puts the sound system on for him again, and soon he's absorbed back into the podcast that's playing. The store isn't far, and Mark navigates them into the parking lot and gently touches Adam's shoulder.

"Let's go?" He smiles encouragingly.

Adam returns it automatically, patting his wallet again. Inside, it's a blur of noise and color, but Adam keeps his eyes on Mark.

Mark leads them through the aisles to the men's department and pauses. "Do you want help picking things out? We shouldn't spend too much time here."

"I can pick my own clothes," Adam says, moving to select a couple of shirts.

"I apologize if I -" Mark cuts himself off.

"It's okay, people think I can't do stuff. Sometimes I can't."

"I know you can do stuff."

"Well, good." He picks out a sweater that doesn't feel too acrylic.

Mark trails him, picking up a pile of his own. When they're done, they grab some snacks, some other supplies for the car. Adam passes a display of hats and scarves, lingering briefly to consider. Mark pauses too, but just watches as Adam touches the knit of a few items. "I suppose it won't get that cold."

Mark picks up a beanie in a deep red color and snugs it over Adam's hair. "Doesn't matter, if it looks good," he teases.

It takes a split second before Adam registers the tone, and then he laughs. He looks up at Mark, cheeks going pink. "You think it looks good?"

"Yeah, I do," Mark replies.

That makes Adam's face burn even more. "Then I'll get it," he whispers.

A smile curls at the corner of Mark's face, and he nods. "Okay."

"You should get one too," Adam tells him, feeling bold.

"Oh yeah? A matching one?"

"Maybe a different color," Adam says seriously.

"Which one? You pick."

Adam chews his bottom lip very seriously for a moment. "The dark gray," he says, touching it gently.

Mark picks is up and dutifully puts it on. "How does it look?"

He looks gorgeous. Adam swallows, and just grins. "Good."

"That's all I need to hear." Mark lifts the pile of clothing out of his arms. "Come on."

They head to the check out, both still wearing their hats. The young cashier who rings them up smiles bashfully at them both. "I need to scan those too, you know."

Adam hands his over quickly, relaxing faintly when Mark keeps smiling. "Do we at least look good?" he asks her amiably.

"You both look great," she laughs.

"Thanks." He hands her cash with another smile, this one directed back at Adam.

Adam smiles too, just at his feet. He barely hears the cashier wish them a good day, because Mark has hooked an arm around his waist and is gently guiding him out the door. Adam can't even begin to process what it means; he just knows he likes it a lot.

Maybe it's nothing. Harlan would say he should never assume that a simple explanation is the right one - that's hard to do though, when it's combined with everything else. He thinks Mark would just say something, though.

It preoccupies him for a while in the car. Finally, he thinks to ask - "Where are we going now?"

"To the new safe house. It's not too far now."

"Mark," Adam draws a long breath, counts it out, "if they found the last one, what makes you think this one is safe?"

"The agency found the last one. My friend found us this one."

"You don't trust the agency. You trust your friend." Adam bites his lip. "I don't like that Agent Brown."

"Neither do I," Mark mutters.

Adam studies him intently as he drives. Adam doesn't always pick up on social signals, it's true, but it's just taught him to look more closely. Currently, Mark looks concerned, or annoyed.

"What are you thinking?" Adam asks him quietly.

"I'm thinking about what we should have for lunch."

Adam bites his lip again. "I usually have the same things for most meals."

"Mac and cheese."

"And chicken." Adam glances over. "Sometimes I eat pizza. But pizza here isn't the same as at home."

"Why not?"

"Have you ever had New York pizza?" Adam asks skeptically.

"I'm afraid not."

"You have to try it to understand. It's what everyone says."

"Well, maybe Nevada pizza won't be too bad." They share another smile. "What do you say, Adam? Want to try? We have mac and cheese as a backup. Or sandwiches."

"Sure," Adam murmurs, feeling his cheeks heat again for some reason. When he peeks, Mark is smiling now. He goes back to watching road signs. The new safe house is apparently in Carson City, which isn't far; Mark was right.

He manages to wind down a little before they arrive. The house isn't exactly what he expected, a neat, modern house in a well-spaced neighborhood.

"This is nice, Mark."

"Good." Mark smiles, getting their bags out of the trunk. He leads them up to the front door, retrieving the key from a lockbox. "It's for sale," he explains to Adam. "The realtor has been renting it out; my friend convinced him to let us have it for a short time."

"So it's - on the internet?" Adam pauses, fearful.

"It might be. Does that concern you?"

"This whole thing concerns me."

"It will have been arranged completely anonymously," Mark soothes.

"I know but… so was the last place."

"That was Brown's people. Not Lena." He waits a beat, and when Adam can't make himself move, he tilts his head. "Adam, would you like me to go and check the house before you come in?"

Adam thinks about it for a moment, then nods. "I will wait in the car."

"Locked," Mark replies, handing him the keys.

He nods again, and dutifully shuts himself back in the passenger seat, clutching the keys to his chest. "Safe safe safe safe safe," he chants under his breath.

His eyes close without him noticing. He thinks of the grocery delivery man; Mr. Brown, every person he hasn't been able to trust in the last few days. Mark isn't one of them. Even though he killed someone. He saved Adam by doing it, Adam is sure. He doesn't think Mark would lie to him. He has to trust someone, because he couldn't do this on his own.

Eventually, a tapping pulls him out of his anxiety cycle: Mark, gently knocking on the window. "It's secure, Adam. Please come inside?"

Slowly, Adam unclenches his hands and opens the door, getting out and feeling slightly better when Mark puts his hands on his shoulders. He squeezes gently then wraps an arm around him again and guides Adam inside.

"I've put your things in your room. Come take a look."

There's a security system, Adam sees, and Mark turns it on. There's an intercom too; a camera. Adam stares at it and feels some of the panic start to regress. "I'm buying one of these for my condo," Adam says.

"Good idea. Do you want me to order the pizza for lunch? We haven’t had much today, and this way we still get mac and cheese for dinner."

“And vegetables…”

“I got broccoli too.”

Adam hesitates for only a moment, then nods. He moves past Mark into the open plan living area of the house. He leaves him to his exploration as he picks up the house phone. Adam listens to him call in their order as he roams the main floor. It's a nice house, at least. Very neat and clean, and sparsely but adequately furnished. He has to trust Mark that they're safe here. It feels safe, maybe just because Mark is here.

Adam glances at him again - he's finished his call and is checking the messages on his phone. "Mark?" He fidgets a bit.

He looks up. "Adam, sorry. Would you like to watch TV or something?"

"I could do a little more work, I guess. I'm almost done."

Mark focuses in on him suddenly. "Good. Let's find you a place to work." Following him, Adam picks at the sleeve of his shirt. Mark grabs his messenger bag and pulls out a chair at the dining table. "Here, Adam, sit, and I'll make you some tea." He touches Adam's shoulder idly as he changes direction.

The tingle remains when his hand falls away. Adam thinks it might not go away this time. He opens his mouth again, then closes it, shaking his head to himself _. Bad idea, Adam._

"Do your work," he grumbles to himself. He opens the laptop and tries to focus himself. After a moment he rummages out his headphones.

That helps, a little. He's able to concentrate on his code. Ignore his rapidly escalating problem. And, he reflects, once he finishes this program, there will be no reason for these people to hunt him.

Unless they want him to create more, for their purposes.

He can't live like this, he reflects, chewing on a knuckle. It lights another flare of anxiety in the deep pit of his conscience. He buries his face in his hands, trying to breathe.

It's harder than he remembers, suddenly. He lets his fingers knot into his hair and rocks slightly. The lecture he's listening to starts to dissolve into white noise as the static panic floods his chest. Eventually, he hears his name and realizes Mark has come to kneel by his side.

"Adam," he sees his mouth move around the word, hands held up questioningly. He claws off the headphones. "Adam, make a square with your arms over your chest. Breathe slowly, it's okay -"

Adam recognizes the words, tries to obey. When he's focusing on his arms, more rational thought gets an opportunity to slide back in. "M-Mark," his teeth chatter a bit from the tension.

"Come to the couch?" Mark asks softly.

Adam tries, stalling and then pushing on when Mark helps him with a hand on his back and shoulder. Then he squeezes his shoulders, kneeling in front of him again, and their arms make a cage.

"There's a blanket here, do you want it?" he asks.

Adam shakes his head.

"Okay. I'm here."

He can only nod. He wants him here. He's quiet though, letting Adam work through it on his own. He closes his eyes and counts his breaths and when he's hit twenty, he feels a little better.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Mark asks when he sees Adam focus back on him.

"I'm anxious," Adam manages. "I want to go home."

"We can't, Adam. I'm sorry."

Adam takes a deep breath again, holding back the desire to scream it until he can't think anymore. He scratches absently at his jeans instead. Mark lays his palms overtop of Adam's fingers.

"Don't be afraid. I haven't let anything happen to you so far, and I promise you I won't."

"How can you promise me that? What if they never stop chasing me?"

"They will. Trust me. I know Director Collins has her team working on the security of the satellite system and you will make it watertight. And I will be here until you're safe, I promise."

Adam turns his hands so their fingers interlace. He does it suddenly enough that it startles Mark a bit. "I'm sorry," he says quickly, snatching his hands back again.

Mark looks - unsure. That feels awful, and Adam covers his face with his hands with a noise of dismay.

"I'm sorry. Mark. I'm so sorry."

"Adam... please try and calm down for me. What can I do for you?"

The things Adam wants are not things Mark should give him, just because he's a nervous wreck. With a strenuous effort to rein in his panic, Adam thinks of what he's trying to convey.

"I... feel scared, and being scared is - exacerbated by the newness, and I don't have any routine and, I don't have any of my things, which makes it harder for me to tell the difference between - feeling scared or actively being in danger."

Mark considers. "Pizza is on its way. We have your mac and cheese if you don't like it, and you can watch your TV program while you eat, and ignore me, and -"

"I don't want to ignore you, I want to kiss you, which I don't think you'd like."

Mark's eyes widen. They're very golden in the light.

"I'm sorry," Adam bleats again miserably, "you make me feel safe and it's confusing for me to find you attractive and to have you around all the time."

"It's confusing for me too," Mark murmurs.

"Confusing? Why?"

"Because I find you attractive, and it's unprofessional."

Before he can stop it, a smile touches the corner of Adam's mouth. "Really?"

Mark looks away, the hint of color bridging his cheekbones. Adam fidgets with his cuffs.

"Really." He looks back, and touches Adam's knee again gently. "But I am here to protect you, and you are in a vulnerable position... and I would be abusing my power by ignoring that."

"But what if that's what I want?"

Now, Mark looks down and considers, worrying at his lower lip with his teeth.

"I realize it's... inappropriate," Adam says. "You're not supposed to make advances on someone just doing their job. I am sorry."

"It's all right, you don't have to say sorry," Mark assures gently, "I haven't exactly been objective."

"How so?"

"I climbed into your bed while you were having a panic attack this morning. Not usual procedure."

"Protective intervention is -"

Mark cuts him off. "I think I just wanted to. And I shouldn't."

It takes a moment to sink in. Adam swallows heavily. "Wanted to calm me down? That seems normal."

"Wanted to touch you."

He has to sort the words back and forth even more thoroughly this time. Finally, it makes more sense. "Oh."

"Oh," Mark echoes softly.

"Are you making fun of me?" Adam laughs.

"Of course not."

He sounds so serious. Adam bites his lip, looking down at his hands again. "So - you find me attractive but... you are at work so it's not appropriate."

Mark shrugs. "I wish…" Adam waits. "I wish I could ignore it."

The concept of wishing is pretty pointless to Adam, but he doesn't think Mark would appreciate hearing his explanation, so he just nods at the floor. He's unhappy about this, though. "I won't say anything about it again," he says quietly.

"You don't have to," Mark murmurs. "I won't forget."

"What do you mean?"

"It is... like a touch of warm fingers on cold skin, Adam. Knowing how you see me."

He takes a moment to commit the words to memory, physically restraining himself from leaning forward - Mark is close, and Adam wants to kiss him. "That... sounds nice, Mark."

"Good. I just want you to know that it means something to me."

Adam isn't entirely sure what to say, because this still isn't exactly what he hoped for, but he can see it's important to Mark so he smiles. He's still tense from panic, so it's probably not a very nice smile. Mark sighs and covers his hands more securely with his own again.

"I'm sorry, Adam."

"Me too, Mark." He clings to the hands offered him. Finally, the door goes. Mark rises.

"Pizza."

Adam nods. He's not happy that they have to separate. Maybe Mark knows, because he gently tousles Adam's hair before he moves away.

The pizza purchase seems to go smoothly, and it smells amazing. Adam has to admit that. Some food will make it better; make it all less frantic and huge. Maybe he can go back to his laptop after he eats. Go back inside his code and forget Mark's warm hands in his hair.

He can't forget, though he tries. Mark is steadfastly nice about the whole thing, which sets Adam's teeth aching for reasons he's ashamed to admit. He realizes he's being unrealistic. Mark's words were kind but Adam has to trust actions - and his actions are not intimate. It brings Adam that unexpected sting of sadness he's only known before with loss.

It's not a comfortable feeling. He tries to ignore it as best as he can but he thinks Mark can tell: he watches Adam while they eat their lunch, conversation between them stilted in a way Adam doesn’t think it was before.

It wouldn't be as obvious if Mark wasn't continually coming close enough to touch and then wandering off like he'd thought he'd better not, like after dinner, when he takes Adam’s plate and hovers just a moment too long.

Adam hates it. He crams his headphones back on his head at the table and stares at his laptop screen instead. He's so close to being done. He just needs to concentrate.

*

He manages it for a few more hours, but it's harder than he thought, especially when he thinks to himself - what if Mark didn't have to guard me anymore? He doesn't even know where Mark lives. Certainly not in California. He looks up at him, sat at the kitchen table with a newspaper, coffee by his elbow and his own notebook computer open.

"Mark?"

He looks up right away. "Yes?"

"What happens when this is over?"

"You go back to your place, and you're safe to go back to work."

"What happens to you?"

"I go back to my place until Lena calls me again."

Adam shifts a bit in his seat. "Where's your place?"

"The south of France. A little town. Very quiet."

"France," Adam repeats.

"I'm not French, but I moved there after I retired."

"So I won't see you," Adam murmurs.

"Oh – I…" Mark stops talking.

Slowly, Adam puts his headphones back on and goes back to his work. He realizes it is rude, but he can't make himself care too much. He's brimming with disappointment. Poor Adam, he thinks angrily. Always alone. He starts to type faster. He wants to go home. He doesn't want that as much as he wants to go over and be very, very unprofessional to Mark. But Mark is going back to France, and Adam doesn't like it when people leave.

He'll just pretend it's already happened. It'll be easy. Adam is good at pretending.

He startles when he feels a hand on his shoulder. Slowly, he takes off the headphones. Mark is looking at him with soft eyes.

"Adam, can I ask you something? Did I upset you when I said I was going home after this?" With difficulty, Adam nods, eyes drifting to his chin. "It's just where I live, it's not necessarily because I want to."

"What does that mean, Mark?"

"I guess I mean - maybe before I go, we could... see one another."

Adam takes it in for a moment. "You'd still leave."

"I could come back."

Adam watches his face as he says it. "Would you want to?"

"I think I would." Mark touches his hair gently.

"You're touching me again. Mark... "

"I'm sorry. I can stop?"

Adam shakes his head, reaching out to do the same to Mark. "I like it. I wish you wouldn't stop."

He watches Mark stall, expression strange and torn before it breaks into a shaky smile. "Do you think you're done working for the night? We could watch TV for a bit. Make dinner."

Adam thinks about it for a moment. "I need to carry on after dinner, I’m almost there, but a break is good. Can we watch the Actor's Studio?"

"Whatever you like."

"Okay." He starts to finish up his work. "I just need a minute to save up."

His chest is glowing. When he closes up his laptop, Mark is making a start on dinner, eyes flicking to the security feed on his own laptop every now and again. Adam just watches him for a moment. His heart beats faster, he thinks.

He likes Mark's competence. He likes his caution and how he does everything Adam asks. He hasn't even noticed him smoking. Though he thinks he probably hasn't completely stopped. But - he listened.

"Mark," he finds himself saying instead of queueing the program he wants on his laptop, "Tell me what you like."

Mark seems to think about it as he stirs mac and cheese. "I don't know, Adam. I like to read. I like music. I like to sit in the sun. I like physics, and I play guitar, and I am refurbishing a cottage in the South of France." He pauses. "And I like having the stars explained to me," he murmurs.

That makes Adam blush a bit. He smiles at Mark's shoulder. "Well - I can do that whenever you want."

"Good." He starts to plate up their dinner. "Is your show almost ready?"

"Oh - not yet." He moves off to search for it on the TV. Mark keeps working behind him, setting the dining table.

When they're ready, they sit down beside one another. They eat quietly, a murmur of conversation between questions on the TV. Mark doesn't interrupt when Adam is watching his favorite parts though. It's like he knows. He also lifts Adam's bowl out of his hands when he's done with it, and Adam, feeling daring, curls up against his shoulder when he returns.

Mark stiffens, and then relaxes again. Adam breathes in - he smells clean and warm. He likes this. He fidgets with his hem a bit to keep his nervous energy channeled, but Mark doesn't make him move away. He just keeps asking his quiet questions about the episode.

When the need to carry on with work nags at him sufficiently, Adam reluctantly peels himself away. He watches Mark wash dishes with every appearance of content as his computer loads his program. Finally, he comes to sit opposite him as before, smiling faintly at him over the top of his screen before he opens up his own.

"Do you mind if I listen to music? The house has a sound system."

Adam thinks about it, then shrugs. "What music?"

"Chamber concertos? Do you like classical music?"

"Yes, but some of it is distracting."

Mark nods. "Let me know if it is and I'll change it."

"Thank you." Adam pushes his headphones to one side. They share a brief smile.

The warm feeling in Adam's chest doesn't let up while he works. He's so close, only slightly distracted by Mark. The music is nice, too. He thinks Mark is deliberately skipping songs that might be too loud. That's much nicer. Adam percolates on it as he starts to put in the last few lines of encryption code into his program.

"Tell me what you've done to your house," he says absently.

"Laid the floors and started fixing the roof. The walls need replastering before the winter, all the electricity is repaired and sealed though."

"Is winter cold there? That's the one thing that's different about California."

"It's not too bad but there can be snow occasionally, and rain. It's more that I'm worried about - I replaced the windows first."

"All by yourself?"

"No, no, a local helped me out with the windows."

"That sounds hard. My dad always had Harlan and his cousins to help."

"It wasn't so bad. It's a small house."

"How small?"

"Ah - smaller than this."

"Smaller than mine?"

"Two floors, but less square footage."

"I'd like to see it. Do you have photos?"

"I'm afraid not but - I can send you some."

Adam hesitates. "I'd... like that."

That gets an encouraging smile. Mark honestly seems surprised someone is taking an interest. Adam is worryingly interested. He's afraid he needs someone to talk him out of something. Namely, this feeling he has about Mark. With Herculean effort, he puts his attention back to his code, and Mark doesn't interrupt him again for a while. The music continues to be soft and soothing. Adam gets lost in it until he's finally finished.

Then, he starts to run test launches, carefully starts a new spreadsheet to tabulate the results. The results are... good. He's being cautious. But... he's pleased with himself.

He hopes Director Collins will be pleased too. He ought ask Mark to call her, but - not until the test program finishes. He has to make sure it's perfect, but he's sure if he sends it to the office, security will be able to run tests too. But he can't use the internet. That brings him up short. He's not sure Mark's phone has a strong enough connection for what he needs. Or enough data.

"Mark?"

"Yes?" Mark glances up slowly.

"I think I've finished."

That gets him his full attention. He clicks something and the music stop. "Truly?"

"It needs testing and securing but - I think so. Any leaked programming on Perseus is now obsolete and unusable. The new version has several digital vaults that would be impossible to crack without the right key."

"That's great news, Adam. Today has been productive, then."

"I hope so."

Mark reaches out and touches the back of his hand. "How much more will you do tonight? Could I make you some tea?"

"Well, I've run a couple of preliminary tests but without a signal I can't go further. I'm confident it's correct but I need the Director to sign off on it... "

"How can we make that happen?"

"I need to send it to her I guess."

"We could send a copy by courier," Mark muses, but both of them immediately shake their heads.

"Brown," Adam says nervously.

Mark doesn't answer, and this expression goes a little flat. "Mm," he says eventually, "let me call my people."

Adam knows Mark's people is really just Lena, who he talks about more often than he realizes, with a tone of reluctant admiration, maybe even fondness. He's not sure whether to be jealous. He just nods and goes back to testing.

He hears Mark get up and start calling Lena. Whatever he hears on the other end, his tone is cautious. "Gone where?" he asks sharply. Adam tenses at his tone, and Mark grumbles at whatever he hears. "Fine. Keep me posted. I'm calling because I need a secure courier. Imagine that."

A few more chattering backs and forths, some not even in English. Mark's face is something in between amused and resigned. Adam starts to relax at the sight of it. He says Director Collins' name a few times, and Adam unashamedly listens in despite the rapid - fire - German, he thinks. Finally, Mark seems satisfied, hanging up.

"She's going to send someone to take your hard drive to the Director so the division can launch the tech and firewall it appropriately. Well done, Adam."

"Thank you, Mark, but - will Director Collins be safe? Can we trust this person?"

"She will be; Lena is making suggestions to the in-house security team."

He nods, but with a little continued frown. Mark tilts his head.

"What is it?"

"So when do we go home? After the package is delivered?"

"Theoretically, as soon as it's all bulletproof." Adam flinches, he can't help it. "That's a metaphor, Adam," Mark assures gently.

Adam nods. Of course, he's just being sensitive. He settles when Mark sets a hand on his shoulder.

"Someone will be here tomorrow to collect the hard drive."

"Someone safe," Adam repeats.

"Yes, Adam. I promise." He smiles and comes close enough to touch Adam's shoulder again. "More tea?"

"No, thank you." Adam fidgets a little, at a loss for what to do. "Movie?" he says, more softly.

"All right. What do you feel like?"

Adam bites his lip, unsure. "You pick."

Mark nods, wandering over to pick up the remote. He checks with Adam before he puts on the movie.

Adam nods. He's seen this one before, but that's okay. That's better, in fact. He comes to sit on the couch and Mark disappears to the kitchen for a while to fetch tea and, Adam notes with surprise, popcorn.

He smiles. "I don't actually like popcorn, Mark, but thank you."

Mark stalls, then looks back to the kitchen. "I have pretzels, too -?"

"I like pretzels."

"Good. Me too." He goes back into the kitchen with the unopened bag of popcorn and returns with pretzels - and Skittles. Adam blushes slightly: Mark bought more. He watches Mark settle down beside him before he puts the movie on to play. Adam likes how he looks when he relaxes.

He tries not to fidget too much while the movie starts, but his fingers tap on his knees of their own accord. Mark has never seemed to mind. It's no different now, though after a short while Adam feels his attention wavering from the film; Mark's eyes on him from the corner of his eye. He takes a deep breath.

"When you said before - about showing me your house."

"Yes?" Mark says softly.

"What did you mean by that?"

"I had thought, maybe, that we could video chat?"

Adam processes that, and then nods. "I'd like that a lot."

"We could start there," Mark murmurs.

Hope makes Adam's mouth tick up in a smile. He clasps his hands together tightly. "Start?" he checks.

"Everything starts somewhere."

Adam thinks about that; about big bangs and nothingness and dust magnetizing in oblivion. He fancies the metaphor apt. That's what they are, after all - two organisms thrown into sudden proximity, drawn together by forces they don't understand, whirling between the stars. They theoretically have the potential, he knows, to make something wondrous and new. He clasps his hands tighter in his lap.

"All right?" Mark asks.

"I am thinking about - the way things start."

"What things?"

"All things. Small things. Important things."

"Small things can become important things."

"Are you a proponent of chaos theory, Mark?" Adam asks.

"I'm not familiar enough to say. Tell me?"

"Popular science calls it ‘the butterfly effect’, perhaps you've heard of that."

"Oh, yes. What brings it to mind?"

"You and me," Adam murmurs.

A pause follows his words, and then Mark looks at him, dark eyes warm. "How do you see it affecting you and me?"

"It means there's a chance for us, I guess."

"I really hope so, Adam."

Adam has to look away. He feels dangerously hopeful, a little overwhelmed by it. It's hard to keep himself contained. "Mark," he mutters weakly.

"I know," Mark murmurs back. When Adam turns toward him, he lifts one well - muscled arm and accepts him tucking himself beneath it gratefully with only a soft sigh. It's not enough, but it's better than nothing.

Adam closes his eyes when Mark gently squeezes. It feels like exactly what he needs. He keeps them closed. Suddenly he's exhausted. Mark clearly won't care if he sleeps.

It's surprisingly easy to drift off... or maybe not surprising at all. Mark is warm and strong and safe. When Adam stirs, it's with the credits rolling and Mark gently nudging him.

"Bedtime," he murmurs.

"Yeah," Adam whispers.

"Go on, then. I'll clean up."

Adam does, feeling thrown and agitated. When Mark walks past him in the hall and squeezes his shoulder, the tension eases all of a sudden. He watches after him, and then says nervously, "I don't like my room very much."

Mark pauses. "No?"

"No... it's cold and the pattern of the carpet is distracting."

"How can I help?" Mark asks.

"I don't know."

"Would you... like to see mine?"

"I don't know how that would help. I thought I might sleep on the couch but - I don't want to disturb your watch pattern."

"No, I meant." Mark pauses for a moment. Adam waits, unsure. "Go see if you can sleep in my room. I can sleep anywhere."

"But it's your room."

"It's not, it's a rental house, I have no attachment to it whatsoever," Mark says with a smile.

Adam scratches his sleeves helplessly, torn.

"Please," Mark says. "I'll go with you."

"Okay." He nods.

Mark follows him through the door of the other bedroom. It's not so different to Adam's, but with a less confusing carpet and a much better window arrangement.

"This is better," Adam murmurs.

"So stay in here." Mark smiles.

"I can't just take your room."

"There's another."

"I'd rather you just stayed with me," Adam snaps, agitated enough to tell the truth.

Mark gives him a slow blink, and then he nods. "If that will make you feel safer, Adam, that's fine."

He shakes his head automatically. "No, Mark, I don't want it to be fine, I want you to - want it."

"I would tell you if I were uncomfortable. Trust me."

Adam nods. "I do."

Mark pauses, like he's thinking something over very seriously. "Adam, let me clarify: do you want me to sleep with you?"

"Yes," Adam says, looking down at his feet. "Appropriately," he adds.

"That's the trick, isn't it?" Mark murmurs.

"What do you mean?"

"Being so close and resisting - you do know how sweet you are, don't you, Adam? You must."

"I never thought about it," he says, honestly, "I'm not trying to upset you - am I upsetting you?"

"No," Mark says quietly. He reaches out to cup Adam's cheek, the contact so sudden and intimate it makes Adam think of stars again. "I need to check the alarm system one more time. Get ready for bed and I'll be up soon."

Adam has a lot of questions, because he's not sure if Mark means what he's saying - but he can only believe him, so he nods.

He smells vaguely of smoke when he comes back upstairs, but he smiles easily. Adam doesn't like it, but he doesn't say anything: he doesn't want to jeopardize this. When he goes to the en suite and washes up, it gets better. Adam is already in his pajamas, teeth brushed and his hand anxiously clenching and loosening in his pocket.

"You could have gone to bed," Mark tells him softly.

"I didn't know how long you'd be."

"Get in bed, Adam," equally softly.

Adam does, curling down under the covers, watching as Mark does a cursory check of the windows before he turns off the overhead light. Then he climbs under the covers facing him. Adam holds his breath for a few seconds, feeling the way he moves and settles; the sound of his breaths. He doesn't touch Adam, but he's close enough to radiate warmth. Though it's dark, Adam can see the shine of his eyes; his silver hair.

"Turn over," he whispers, and when Adam cautiously obeys, he wraps one thick arm around Adam's waist. "Okay?" he asks.

 Adam nods quickly. It is more than okay. He's a warm and grounding weight against his back, and when Adam shifts to get more comfortable the press of their bodies is enough to remind Adam that he doesn't just like Mark for his personality.

He tries not to think on that too hard. His face goes a bit warm with the effort, but he closes his eyes and pushes down any further consideration of the matter.

Mark, for his part, is admirably still. With a soft sigh, Adam pulls up the cover and settles down, heaviness descending on him easily. He'll sleep well, he thinks. Hopes. He hopes Mark does too.

*

Sure enough, when he wakes it's to fingers of sun and a warm frame pressed against him from shoulder to knee. He hitches his knees up closer to his body against the nervous warmth in the pit of his stomach. He feels dangerously good. Like he wants to roll over and greet Mark very intimately. He's a little breathless with the feeling, so he sits up quickly, careful to be gentle. He doesn't want to be inappropriate when Mark has made it so clear how he feels.

It's still so much colder outside of their nest of blankets. Adam can see from the discarded shoes and robe by the door that Mark has been up in the night to check the house; the feeds. And then he came back to bed and spooned back up beside Adam like a living suit of armor. The thought makes him bite his lip against the ferocity of his smile, and he gets up to wash his face and brush his teeth, only returning when his body and mind are ready to cooperate. He slides back into bed facing Mark and tucks himself carefully under his chin.

Mark's care is a gift, he's realized. He has no intention of wasting it.

He can tell within moments that Mark is awake. He touches Adam's hair gently. "You're okay?"

"I'm good, Mark, thank you."

"Good." He nods. "Are you ready to get up?" His voice is still soft, but not sleepy.

Adam thinks about it. He's reluctant to move away. "What time will the courier be here?"

"I'll have to check my phone." Mark doesn't seem inclined to move. Adam waits, and then smiles.

"You're not ready to get up, are you."

"Nearly," Mark protests.

Adam laughs, delighted. "It's a Saturday. You're supposed to stay in bed on a Saturday. That's what my dad used to say."

"Your dad was smart," Mark seems to relent. Adam catches the corner of a smile.

"He was smart. Though he said my mom is where I got my brains."

"You certainly have plenty of those, Adam." Mark taps his temple, though it turns into a brush of an errant curl.

"Figuratively, perhaps."

This time, Mark definitely smiles. "Mm, you're right."

Adam presses his face into Mark's throat for a moment. It feels easy, warm. Adam hasn't felt like this for a while; effortlessly comfortable. He wishes he could express that to Mark.

"This is good," is all he manages.

"It is," Mark agrees quietly.

They stay like that for long enough that neither of them seem under the misapprehension that their proximity is at work appropriate levels, anymore. Still it's almost impossible to stop. Eventually, Mark reaches out and strokes Adam's curls back, a little more unruly lately.

"I'll make us some tea."

He pushes himself up and out of bed, and Adam curls back into the warm spot for a moment. The pull of Mark's company and breakfast is enough to finally rouse him. He showers and dresses quickly and goes downstairs to see what Mark is doing.

He's... whisking batter. "Oh," Adam says, surprised.

"Do you - I don't mean to disrupt your routine, Adam, but I thought I'd make pancakes - is that all right?"

"I like pancakes," Adam allows.

"You can stick to bran if you prefer," Mark says, with an almost daring smile.

"I like bran," Adam says, "but - I like that you cooked for me."

"Yeah? I got syrup." Mark smiles questioningly.

"I like syrup." Adam smiles back and sits at the breakfast bar. He watches Mark start to cook the pancakes, pleased with himself: he's gotten a lot better with spontaneity since his move, and this isn't vexing him anywhere near as much as it once might. At least he doesn't have to go to a restaurant - his coworkers always want to, and he can never understand why. That brings him back to Mark, deftly flipping a pancake in the skillet.

"Do you cook a lot?"

"Yes, I do now."

"What's your favorite thing to make?"

Mark considers. "I like Italian food. Making pasta and gnocchi and that kind of thing."

"You make it yourself?"

"When I can be bothered. I bake bread too. That's big in France."

"Wow," Adam murmurs.

"You don't bake? Or cook?"

Adam shakes his head. "Dad did."

Curiosity coloring his expression, Mark tilts his head. "And you haven't tried to learn any recipes or anything -?"

"What if I did them wrong?"

"I guess that's how you learn."

Adam shakes his head. "I don't - like doing things wrong."

Mark pauses, then nods. "I understand. What if someone were teaching you?"

"Mm, maybe?"

Mark nods. "It's not so bad, it can be fun."

"Even if you mess up?"

"Everybody messes up sometimes."

"It's just a waste, though." Mark studies Adam for a moment and he tries not to squirm.

"It's not a waste if you learn new skills, surely. You don't think that about code sequences you try out do you? Scientific theories that get disproven? It's a basis for improvement."

Adam wrinkles his nose. "That's true."

"Anyway, maybe sometime I could cook for you, and you could watch, and that way you'd learn but you wouldn't be wasting anything."

"Okay," Adam murmurs.

"Only if you want, Adam."

"I like doing things with you, Mark. You don't make me change things for no reason."

"I don't like change either," Mark shrugs. He flips another pancake, smiles.

"But you... you must deal with a lot of it."

"I do. I learned to."

Adam bites his lip. "I did too. It's hard, sometimes, with the - anxiety."

"I'm sure it is, Adam. You're doing fantastically."

He nods automatically. "Uh, thank you. I think you probably are too, Mark. Except I don't know as much as you."

"What do you mean by that?"

"About - doing well. I just know what it means for me. Not for other people."

"That's all right. It’s different for everyone." Mark sounds so confident. He flips another pancake. Adam sips his tea and watches as he finishes.

The pancakes are really, really good. Adam has nearly forgotten about the courier. For a moment it had felt almost like a vacation, like a hideaway for the new feelings that are expanding inside him like a tiny, whirling galaxy. When he remembers, he sets his fork down uncertainly.

Mark looks up from his own plate. "Adam?"

"The courier," Adam says again.

Mark looks at his phone. "An hour," he replies. "And then we'll think about arrangements for getting you home."

Adam frowns. "Of course."

"You'll be able to get back to normal once word gets out that Perseus has been dismantled," Mark encourages gently.

"You're sure?"

"I'll stick around, for a while."

Adam's breath stutters. "Will I still be a job?" He's not sure what to make of Mark's silence - annoyed, or awkward.

"No," Mark murmurs, touching his hand. "You won't."

The smile that tugs at Adam's mouth is somewhat out of his control. "I will let you teach me how to make pancakes," is what he manages to say.

Mark pauses, and then nods. "Thank you," he laughs. He leaves his fingers over Adam's.

That tingling again. Adam is enchanted by it. Mark seems similarly enthralled. They're only interrupted by Mark's phone buzzing - something that irritates Adam more than it has any right to. Mark gives him an apologetic look and answers it.

"Lena." He gets up and moves away, leaving Adam to poke at the remains of his breakfast. "Thanks for the update," he says after another moment. He puts the phone down and directs to Adam, "they'll be here imminently."

Adam jumps to his feet to grab the hard drive. He hands it to Mark in the kitchen doorway, trying not to blush at the way Mark touches his hair briefly in thanks before he heads to the door. He hovers for a moment, wondering if he should start scrubbing dishes or try to find the dishwasher.

He can hear Mark at the door, talking quietly, but he sounds tense. That makes him take another step towards the door. And then the door slams back against the wall and Mark shouts.

"Adam, run!"

He freezes for a moment instead. And then he sees the intruder rounding the doorway, coming toward him, and acid fear melts the static away.

He runs, as fast as he can. Through the kitchen to the back door, rattling on it for a moment before remembering the latch. He staggers out into the yard as fast as he can without falling, shoeless and directionless and half blind with panic. He heads around the corner of the house to where he sees a clump of small trees.

There are footsteps behind him, more than one set. He doesn't dare turn around. He just runs until the hand that catches his arm jolts him bodily; sends a ripple of anxiety through him that's damn near paralyzing.

"No!" he cries out, arm lashing out automatically.

There are more hands, and Adam freezes up and closes his eyes when he's caught and handled, the noise of his distress loud in his ears, drowning out everything else. He tries to curl into a ball and he can't. And then the gunshot cuts through everything, and he's released, left lying stunned on the ground with his hands hovering around his face. He cranes up to look, and Mark is there, someone else too.

Mark doesn't hesitate, just scoops him up into his arms and carries him inside, mindless of Adam’s wriggling.

"Mark, who's that -?"

Mark shushes him almost unconsciously, he thinks. He's holding him too tight, making Adam shift uneasily.

"Mark, did you _shoot_ someone? Put me down, I’m not a baby -"

"One second. Yes. He's alive. The courier is one of ours, he's detaining him."

"Who was it? He looked like - "

"Brown," Mark spits, kicking the door shut behind them, taking Adam to the living room and depositing him on the sofa. He kneels in front of him, eyes dark and wild as he starts to check him over.

“I didn’t like being picked up like that.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I had to check… you’re okay?” Urgency in his voice. Adam’s annoyance and fear clears a little.

"Mark," Adam protests. "I'm okay."

"Definitely?"

"My feet hurt," Adam whispers.

Mark bends to look at them. "Not bleeding," he murmurs, hands warm on the bare skin. "Maybe just sore?"

"Yeah, maybe." Adam bites his lip. His heart is still pounding. "Brown is here? But - how -"

"He must have intercepted somehow, I'm not sure."

"The courier, the hard drive -"

"It's safe, he has it." Mark hauls in a deep breath and picks Adam right back up off the couch, setting him onto his lap.

"Mark," Adam bleats, confused, embarrassed for a moment.

"I was so worried. I'm sorry, Adam."

"It's okay, we're okay? Aren't we?"

"I think so. I need to call Lena."

Adam nods, but he's still perched awkwardly on Mark, unsure what to do with his limbs to keep it - appropriate. Mark seems like he's not considering it at all. He's still watching Adam very closely, holding onto him.

Adam sighs and leans in. "Mark," he whispers softly. Dark eyes flash up to meet his. "You’re treating me like a kid.”

“I just want- I want to be close.”

Wants to remove Adam’s agency, to give himself an excuse – helplessness is a foil for permission. Adam can give him permission, now, he realizes. And take back his autonomy.

“You can’t just pretend I need you to hold me, Mark. Either put me down or kiss me, if that’s what you want to do," Adam insists, softly.

His expression goes unsure, and then certain. "Adam," he murmurs, and leans in.

“I want you to.”

Kissing him feels as warm and right as anything ever has. Mark holds him somehow tighter. It's a gentle kiss, nondemanding. When they pull apart, Mark's eyes stay closed for a minute.

"Mark," Adam says hesitantly.

"Yes?"

"Was that - did you enjoy it?"

He smiles at that. "Adam - of course I did." He touches Adam's cheek. "I need to take care of some things now, but I don't want to leave you either."

"I - I don't want you to. I feel a little anxious."

"Then I'll stay here." He lifts Adam back onto the couch and goes to sit in a nearby chair.

Adam stalls, perplexed by the distance for a moment, agitated enough not to be able to quite put his finger on it for a few minutes – but he supposes he asked him to remember not to manhandle him, so he just breathes a while. Mark spends it on the phone, speaking in rapid-fire German (he thinks) with Lena. His knuckles are white. Adam can't take his eyes off the way he flexes and relaxes his fingers. This is a violent man, he thinks, trying very hard not to be violent.

The thought doesn't alarm him like it perhaps ought to. Adam has never, in his life, felt imminent danger to himself – even running then, he knew Mark was behind him. He thinks he's fine with the way Mark is if he's protecting him.

At that thought, Mark puts the phone down and rises. "I will be right at the door; I need to talk to the courier."

"You can invite him in if you need to," Adam suggests.

Mark nods but Adam senses his reluctance. He goes to the door anyway and Adam tracks his steps.

The courier - who Adam notices seems like Mark in so many ways, nondescript, disheveled, without identity - talks to him quietly. It's a different language entirely - maybe something Slavic. Adam watches Mark's mouth moving. All he can think about is kissing it again. Maybe it's a good distraction that way.

Finally, Mark finishes his conversation. He shuts the door and turns back to Adam.

"He'll have it there by tonight. A police escort and ambulance are on the way for Brown and his accomplice."

"There was an accomplice too?"

"Already incapacitated," Mark assures him. "The courier took care of that."

"And where are they?"

"In the van they brought. Don't worry, you don't have to see them."

Adam processes that in silence. "It's over?"

"I think so."

"Will you have to talk to the police? Will I?"

"It'll be a matter of record, is all."

Adam nods. "I think I can do that," he whispers.

"I'm confident you can," Mark tells him softly. He comes closer, only hesitating for a moment before taking Adam in his arms. His closeness is breathtaking again. "I'd believe you can do anything you tried," he murmurs.

Adam swallows heavily, but he can't keep from smiling. He slowly lays his cheek against Mark's shoulder. Mark cups the back of his neck. It feels good, so Adam presses into it a little.

"You kissed me."

"Yes, I did."

The concrete pleasure in it makes Adam smile, eyes hovering on Mark's jaw. "Well. Are you going to do it again?"

"I had planned on it," Mark murmurs.

"When?"

"I had thought... not until I don't have to stop. But I also don't really want to wait."

"If you need to wait, that's okay."

"I don't want to," Mark leans down and kisses him gently.

It's too easy to let him, to yield to his soft mouth, but Adam stalls and leans back. "You said before - you wanted to wait until it wasn't your job anymore -"

"I did say that."

"Did - what changed?"

"I couldn't wait. I'm sorry."

"I'm not upset. I don't want to misinterpret."

"I don't want to rush things," Mark replies.

Another short pause. Adam looks around. "You mean sex?"

"... Yes," Mark says.

"Okay." Adam nods. "I don't want to rush things either."

"But I do want to kiss you."

"I'd like that, please, Mark."

Mark does it again. His hands are warm on Adam's cheeks this time. His lips, hot; both giving and demanding. Despite his claims of wanting to go slow, Adam feels dizzy and ready, enough to pull back with pink cheeks.

"I - I don't want you to go back to France."

"Oh, Adam," Mark whispers.

Adam swallows. "Not right away."

"I won't. I promised."

"You want to stay?"

Mark gathers him closer. "So much."

"I -" it's hard to say. "I haven't had a boyfriend before. I've thought about it and I've been on dates but... that's it."

"It's the same for me," Mark tells him. "It's not - it wasn't a lifestyle that encouraged that sort of thing."

"Oh." Adam nods, encouraged. "Well, that's good then."

"I've had sex with plenty of people though," Mark adds dryly.

Adam laughs, almost nervous. "I haven't." Mark looks questioning, and Adam successfully preempts his next question purely through repeated experience of this conversation. "I'm not a virgin, Mark."

"I know that."

"How do you know?"

"I... suppose I assumed. Would you like to talk about it?"

"I don't need to."

Mark nods, cheeks faintly pink.

"Do... you want to?" Adam checks.

"Yes, Adam, very much so."

Suddenly, Adam is aware he's miscommunicated, but the unintentional answer is unexpectedly thrilling. He taps absently against Mark's shoulder to gather himself. "Do you want to talk about it?" he reiterates, slowly.

Mark glances automatically toward the front door. Sirens approaching. "Can I get back to you on that later, Adam?"

"I'm not going anywhere," Adam tells him. Mark laughs, even though Adam didn't intend to be funny. He answers with a questioning smile. "Go on," Adam tells him. "I'll be here when we're done."

"All right. I'll be quick."

Adam watches him slip out the door. He feels safe now. Sure. Watching out the window as the police load two men into the cruiser and an ambulance that pulls up behind it, he releases a slow breath. Mark is talking to an officer, looking calmly in control. The nameless courier stands beside him, nodding. Adam can see how both of them have positioned themselves to look respectful, non-threatening. He wonders what strings Lena is pulling behind the scenes. He wonders if Director Collins is safe.

Mark will be able to find out. Adam thinks he could do anything, too.

The next thing he knows, an officer is following Mark back to the house. Trepidation flaring up as quickly as it had died down, Adam skirts away from the window. He sits back on the couch.

Mark and the officer come into the living room. "Adam, may I look at your laptop?"

"It's on the dining table, Mark," Adam whispers. He watches him go, curious. "Do you need me to log it on?"

"No, I'm going to take it apart."

That does propel him off the couch. "It - but it's my work computer, it's for work - "

"I'll buy them a new one if I damage it."

"But I need it, you're not a computer technician, what if the director needs me to rework the program -?"

Mark stops him with a gentle hand. "Adam, when you removed the hard drive, you opened the case, didn't you?"

Adam nods.

"Can you open it for me, then? I just need to look inside."

After a steadying breath, Adam does so. Mark inspects it with a small flashlight for a minute or so before reaching into his pocket for his folding knife. He uses it to pry something small and black out of a corner of the casing and uses a tissue to pick it up and hand it to the officer. "There, as I suspected."

"What was that?"

"A tracking device," the officer answers, tucking it into a small plastic bag. "Just as Mr. Coit here suggested. We found the reader in the suspect's van."

Adam stares, and then looks at Mark. "That's how he knew where we were... "

“Must have been when they broke into the safe house. I thought they’d missed the computer, but they wanted you.”

Anxiety flares through Adam at that, but Mark’s warm hand on his shoulder grounds him a bit.

“And you think it was just Brown?”

"I think so. Must have been planning to fool you into giving him the completed codes, then selling it to the highest bidder. Perhaps he’d been approached by foreign intelligence.” He seems to say this more to himself, and then remember they’re not alone. “Officer, if there's anything else I can do for you?" Mark says politely.

"I think that's all," he answers, "thanks for your cooperation."

He nods at Adam in turn. "Mr. Raki, Mr. Coit said you might provide a written statement if required? Is that acceptable? It won’t be today."

"Yes - yeah." He turns grateful eyes on Mark, glad when the officer nods again and moves to go. When the door closes over, and the sounds of engines and flashing lights recedes, Adam sags.

"I'm sorry," Mark says.

"Why?"

"I told you I'd take care of them."

"What do you mean?"

"I knew you didn't want them in here."

"It's okay," Adam says quietly, "people make promises they can't keep sometimes."

"I don't want to do that to you."

"You kept me safe."

"I tried."

"You did." Adam goes over, twists his hands into Mark's shirt. He's so grateful when Mark wraps his arms around him.

Mark kisses his forehead. "We'll wait for the all clear before we had back. Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

"Just you, Mark. I'm quite content when I'm with you."

His arms tighten just so. "Same, Adam." He nuzzles his temple.

It's shockingly intimate, so familiar Adam's breath catches. He tightens a hand in Mark's shirt and closes his eyes. "I like when you hold me," he says.

"I like holding you."

"Let's keep doing it, then."

"A brilliant solution," Mark teases.

"I am a scientist," Adam points out.

"It suits you."

Adam smiles. "That's silly, Mark," he says fondly.

"Is it?"

"I don't think you can tell anything about my profession from looking at me."

Mark steps back and tilts his head. "I don't know. You look very neat and orderly."

"Not necessarily an indicator," Adam says. Mark is smiling too so he knows he's joking.

"It makes you look like you might have neat, orderly thoughts."

"It helps me have them."

"See? A scientist." Mark pulls him over to the couch. "You know I'm right."

"As a scientist I have to disagree." Adam smiles. He tucks himself under Mark's arm. Casual displays of affection are easier than they ever felt when Adam lived alone - Beth had helped with that, too, but now Mark cups his head and cradles him close, and it's encompassing and warm and safe.

He listens to Mark breathe. He's always so calm. Or at least controlled. Consistent. Adam could stay like this for a long, long time.

He hopes Mark can too. It seems likely he can. He's thrilled.

After a while, Mark gets up to go and talk to Lena about next steps while Adam puts his laptop back together delicately. He wonders if it's safe for him to use his phone now. He'll wait and ask, but he'd like to check in with Harlan.

While he waits, he watches Mark. Something about him seems so much more relaxed now. Adam studies his body language with interest. More tired, he thinks. He's tired too. He could go for a nap. Now is as good a time as any.

"Mark?" he asks softly, when he's done on the phone, "I think I need to sleep. Can I?"

"You can nap right there if you like," Mark tells him.

Adam looks around, then back at him. "Do - do you want to sleep with me?"

"You mean go back to bed?"

"For a little while. You look tired too."

Mark smiles. "Maybe a little."

"Then come on." Adam smiles.

Mark makes a point of locking up and re-engaging the alarm. They head upstairs and Adam shrugs off his sweatshirt and starts to undo his jeans. Mark makes a soft sound of surprise.

"I can't sleep in jeans," Adam protests weakly.

"That's fine," Mark murmurs. He's smiling, just so. Adam feels his face heat up.

"What?" he asks plaintively.

"Am I allowed to like watching you?"

Adam blushes harder. "Yes," he smiles.

"Then I will. I do."

"Well - that's good. I do want to sleep, just so you know."

"I know, Adam. You're very direct. I like that about you, you know."

"That's good, because I can't help it." Faint wryness he can’t tamp down, there, but Mark smiles.

"That doesn't matter to me. I can help it, and I still prefer it. I spent too many years lying."

Adam tilts his head at that. "Lying?"

"For my jobs. When necessary."

"Have you lied to me?"

"No, I don't do that anymore."

Adam weighs that, and then decides he believes him. "Okay."

"Just like that," Mark murmurs, pulling off his overshirt.

"Unless you're lying."

Mark pauses before he removes his jeans. Adam sits on the bed and watches, ears burning faintly.

Mark turns the covers down on his side. He pats the mattress by his side teasingly, and Adam smiles and lies down. He waits to be embraced. Even so, it still renders him breathless when Mark curls his arms around him and pulls their bodies flush. So warm. So safe.

"I like this," he whispers softly.

Mark sighs. "Me too." His hand gently brushes Adam's curls. "Sleep."

Adam nods and tucks his face against his throat. It's easy as it was last night. Maybe easier. He's exhausted and relieved, and as he considers his thoughts, he realizes he’s not nervous now. The anxiety has melted away where it’s followed him the last few days, leaving him feeling heavy, and achy.

Grateful for the warm press of muscle against his back, he falls asleep in minutes.

//

 Mark lets himself fall more deeply asleep than he has in days. When he wakes, Adam is warm and pliant against him, soft snuffling breaths and gentle hands. Mark can hardly help the way his own wander over silky skin. He feels Adam shiver and twist closer, narrow waist dipping as he nudges his knee between Mark's. Chin angling, he kisses the corner of Mark's mouth softly.

Mark has to catch his breath. "Hello," he murmurs, stroking Adam's hair.

Adam smiles up at him. "I feel better. Do you feel better?"

"Much," Mark agrees. The only thing that would feel better would be another sweet kiss.

Adam doesn't disappoint him, and Mark is selfishly glad he doesn't have to make the call. He's seduced plenty of people over the years, but he's reluctant to apply his usual charms with Adam, not least because he's - well… embarrassed that he couldn't keep his distance. It's the way he is, too - that seeming innocence. It stalls Mark even though he knows Adam is more than capable of taking care of himself; he corrects himself like he did before, when that blind rage compelled him to pick Adam off the floor like some damsel in distress.

He’s not a damsel, and he’s not in distress. Especially not right now, kissing Mark deep and decidedly unchaste. They should... probably talk more about his experience. Mark is hesitant to come on too strong. Hesitant to take advantage of him - that would be his greatest unhappiness. Talking is not Mark's strong suit, but it seems to be Adam's.

"Mark?" He whispers it softly against his mouth. "You seem distracted? Is everything okay?"

"I’m okay, I’m thinking. Tell me about your last relationship," Mark finally says.

Adam thinks, and then hums. "She was called Beth, we met when she moved into my building."

Mark nods, fingers making circles on his back.

Adam hums. "We were together for a year, but - something happened with her dad and she didn't want to move here so I came alone."

"You were serious, then?"

"Not all the time, sometimes we had fun."

"I meant - about each other, Adam."

"Oh." He turns a bit red at that. "We - yes. And sometimes I miss her, but I don't think... " he pauses, forming his answer carefully. "She was hurting after her last relationship, and I needed her, and she needed me to not need her, maybe."

"You don't seem to need anyone now..."

"I don't think I do. I had to learn a lot when I moved here, but it's been good developmentally - I have a therapist now, and a social life - it's not that I didn't have those things before, but I didn't know how to use them effectively. I relied on my father so heavily that I was afraid of anything that challenged the routine we had together."

"You've made a new routine, it seems."

"I'm trying to," Adam says mournfully, "things keep interrupting."

"Sorry," Mark replies, with a faint chuckle.

Adam grins to show he's joking. He leans up to kiss Mark's jaw. Mark strokes his hair again.

"Sly," he murmurs.

"What do you mean?"

"Your sense of humor, Adam. It's very sneaky."

Adam chuckles against his skin. "You like it."

"I do like it. I like you."

He earns yet another of those tiny kisses, and this time he tips his head down for more. Adam curls his fingers into his t-shirt with a sigh. He's so beautiful, Mark marvels. Touching Mark gently, kisses soft and sweet and body warm and firm against his own.

He's still thinking about the girl Adam was dating. That doesn't answer all of his questions about what Adam wants or what he's done. He pulls back. "Adam?"

"Yes -?"

"Tell me what you like in bed."

Adam looks up at him, and Mark sees his little swallow, not anxious but... anticipatory. "You mean sex?" At Mark's nod, he laughs nervously. "Uh, the usual stuff I guess."

"What does that mean to you?" Mark asks, smiling softly.

"What does it mean to you?"

"Oh, hands, mouths... fucking," he murmurs. He feels Adam shiver a little.

"That's what I was thinking too."

"Have you ever been fucked?" Mark asks quietly.

Adam blushes suddenly and fiercely. "No. Have you?"

"Yes."

Adam wets his lips, and when his eyes go down, Mark wonders if he's imagining it. "Did you like it?"

"With a partner I felt properly connected to."

"Connected to?" Adam repeats uncertainly.

"Sometimes sex is just about quick release. Sometimes you want it to be more."

"Like loving someone," Adam says quietly.

"Or even just - a special connection."

"Can I have an example?"

"Someone you're... wildly attracted to. That you can't stop thinking about."

Adam glances up at him again, and then he turns pinker still. "Oh."

"Is that a good ‘oh’?"

"It's not good or bad, it's just - realization."

Mark tilts his head questioningly.

"Sometimes I don't know how to describe what I feel," Adam explains quietly, "but I feel a lot. People think people like me don't because we don't show it in the same way but... we do. But when someone else describes something I didn't know how to, it sometimes clicks."

"Oh," Mark breathes. "Good." Adam nods, though he looks a little lost and helpless. "Adam?"

"Yes?"

"Kiss me again."

"Okay." Adam does, warm and gentle, pressed in close.

"Is it a special connection for you too?" Mark asks when he stops.

"Well, we haven't known each other very long," Adam says pragmatically, "But - I think so." Then he smiles. "You said ‘too’."

"I did." Mark tucks a curl behind his ear.

It's like a thrill through his entire system. Adam curls an arm more securely around his neck and crushes in tighter. Mark grips his waist to bring their bodies flush. He feels hot all over, achingly tender toward Adam. Nearly as cherished as he feels.

"Mark," Adam says softly.

"Yes, darling?"

"I - I'm -" he bites his lip. Mark touches his cheek. "Sorry," Adam says quietly.

"Sorry about what?"

"I'm -" he thinks, "feeling a little overloaded, and I'm worried I'm being too forward."

Mark kisses his forehead. "You're doing fine. Am I being too forward?"

"No, Mark. No." He bites his lip. "I'd like more, when you're ready."

Mark nods, hands smoothing over the fine muscles of his back. "All right, Adam." They look at each other for a long moment.

"Can I kiss you some more?" Adam asks eventually, after his eyes have moved over everywhere on Mark's face.

"I'd be delighted."

"Can you tell me what's not okay?"

"I will endeavor to do so."

Adam is silent for a moment, watching him expectantly, and Mark realizes he wants a list. Mark bites back a smile. He has to think for a moment.

"Not much, Adam," he murmurs. "I don't think I would much enjoy being tied up," he ventures.

His eyes widen in response. "I think that might make me a little anxious - but Mark, I meant now."

"You're not doing anything right now."

"I don't know what I'm allowed to do!"

Mark sighs. "You were doing all right before."

Still confused looking, Adam just nods.

"What do you want to do?"

"I mean - lots of things?"

"First," Mark murmurs.

"Touching?"

"Wherever you like, Adam."

That makes him look curious. "Really?"

"Of course."

"You can touch too," he murmurs.

"Where," Mark echoes.

"Anywhere you want, I think."

"I like hearing that," Mark murmurs.

"Good." Adam kisses him again. His hands wander with more purpose. Mark can't get enough.

He closes his eyes and savors. Smiles when Adam's hand slips up the back of his shirt and traces over the dip of his spine.

"You're very strong," he murmurs.

"In some ways more than others."

"Aren't we all?"

"Of course." Mark strokes absently down Adam's side, marveling at the novelty of such a simple action.

"Can you take your shirt off?" Adam asks softly. He bites his lip when Mark does as he's asked. Mark feels the urge to shiver. He's never been shy, not ever, but Adam looks so openly assessing.

"Tell me what you're thinking, Adam."

He watches Adam reach out and touch his chest; a scar there. "I'm surprised at how it makes me feel, seeing you like this."

"How is that?"

"Uh, good," Adam says faintly, "I theoretically knew I was attracted to other genders but - I didn't know how attracted."

"I'm delighted to hear it."

That makes him smile, though he doesn't take his eyes off Mark. "Where's this scar from?"

"Mafiosa," Mark murmurs. "Not a nice story."

"I have an appendectomy scar," Adam says seriously.

"Show me?" He smiles at Adam's faint blush as he takes his shirt off.

He's so pale, so lovely. The scar is small, neat. Mark covers it with his palm, smiling at his shiver. Not so uncommon, this kind of little scar. On Adam, it's charming, just a thin white line on his soft abdomen. Mark curls his other arm under him and savors his warm closeness; the hectic tumble of his hair and the flush staining his cheeks.

"What're you thinking, Mark?"

"How lovely you are."

"Is that all?"

"How badly I wish I could do even more than this."

Biting his lip, Adam seems to consider that before he brushes his fingertips against Mark's collarbone. "What else do you want to do?"

"Strip you bare," Mark murmurs. "Put my mouth on all of your gorgeous skin."

Adam bites his lip. "When can you do that?"

"I think... not yet. Adam. We've had so little time."

He nods quickly, though his hands touch over Mark's shoulders gently. "Okay." He keeps touching. Mark closes his eyes.

He feels Adam's proximity; the brush of lips against his own. It's not at all tentative; Mark can feel him cataloguing. He accepts the questioning press of his tongue with a sigh. Kissing him deeply is like an exploration too.

Adam is good, sweet and slow but not shy. It's even more maddening that way. Mark has to force himself to ease back; to take a few deep breaths. He's quickly reaching a point of arousal he's not sure they're ready for.

For his part, Adam is unabashedly reciprocating, cheeks pink and his hair tousled where he's lay, boxers doing little to hide anything. He is so beautiful. Mark pulls him in to kiss him very softly again, the action more cherishing than suggestive.

Adam twines his hands into Mark's hair and allows him to gentle. "We should get out of bed," he says, sounding far more sensible than he looks.

"Yes," Mark murmurs slowly, "what would you like to do this afternoon?"

"Maybe see if we can find something to do - if we don't have to stay inside?"

"No, I think we can go out today."

Adam breaks into a smile. "Yes please."

"Thought you might be happy about that."

"I am. I'm happy being here with you too."

"Well, going out will be a novelty at least."

"Yeah, I have to go get showered." Adam starts to sit up.

It's hard to let go of him, but Mark manages. He watches fondly as Adam starts to gather his things, turning back to Mark solicitously.

"Will you find a place we can go in the town? Maybe a museum or - a movie, or something. Like - maybe like a date?"

Mark smiles. "Just like one. Of course."

Adam's expression shifts into an uncertain smile. "Could - could it be a date? A real one?"

"It can. It will be."

"You want it to be?"

"More than anything," Mark answers honestly. He loves being honest with Adam; loves the way he trusts him. Loves the feeling of being someone who can be trusted. He gives Mark a huge, easy smile, and then moves off to the bathroom. Mark watches him go.

When they're both ready, they get in the rental car and drive into town, Adam bouncing nervously in the passenger seat, Mark pensively quiet.

"We've got several choices," Mark tells him, having spent time on his phone while Adam showered. "The Nevada State Museum, a railroad museum, going to the movies... "

"The railroad museum?"

"Of course. Dinner after?"

"Out?" Adam says doubtfully.

"We'll read the menus first," Mark promises. "There's always pizza." Adam still looks unsure. Mark reaches over to squeeze his hand. "We can leave if you don't like it."

"I already know I don't like restaurants though," Adam complains faintly.

"That's fine, Adam. Really." He watches him bite his lip. He means it, even though he doesn't understand.

"Thank you," Adam says softly.

How can Mark resist. "It's okay. Let's go to the museum."

Adam nods and smiles. When they get there, he seems to calm down almost immediately, intensely occupied by the engines and cogs displayed. Mark trails him, reading plaques with historical photos. Adam seems to know almost everything about what they're looking at.

"Are you sure you've never been here before?" Mark teases.

"I know a lot about engines."

"I love how brilliant you are," Mark tells him.

Adam smiles uncertainly. "Brilliant?"

"Yes, truly." Mark takes his hand. He smiles when Adam immediately squeezes.

"Let's go watch the train movie," he says sweetly.

"Sounds thrilling." He’s teasing, but there’s something fresh and forbidden about this: dates are not something Mark has a heap of experience with, especially ones like these.

Adam wrinkles his nose at him. "It's actually very interesting."

"I'm sure I'll learn something."

"I'll test you afterwards," Adam jokes.

"Mm, all right."

They go to sit on the bench. Adam leans into Mark and sighs in content when he slowly puts his arm around him. Mark sighs into his hair. He scents Adam's hair gently; his bright shampoo. He'd be happy just to sit here like this.

He thinks Adam might be happy too. But Adam watches the movie with every sign of absorption. Mark can't stop peering at him.

Despite his distraction, he finds it interesting too - he knows next to nothing about Western US history. He's never had an occasion to learn. Adam seems to like learning about virtually anything. He can't help but oddly entertain the notion of Adam visiting France. Adam would like his little house, he thinks, bright with windows and varnished wood floors.

As if his gaze cools him like a breeze, Adam looks at Mark and smiles. "Are you having fun?" Adam asks carefully.

"I'm enjoying myself very much. Are you?"

Adam nods. "This is a nice museum. Nothing like in New York of course."

"Inferior?"

"Smaller. Newer."

"I've never been."

"Really?"

"Really." Mark studies him. "Do you miss it? I don't know if I ever asked you."

"Miss it?" Adam considers. "Not really. It was cold."

Mark laughs softly. "That's all it takes?"

"Well, it's also where I lost my job - and it wasn't the first time - lost my father, and lost my relationship." Adam smiles even so; he doesn't sound upset. Mark sobers anyway.

"Do you miss him?"

Adam nods. "A lot, yeah." His voice goes a level quieter. Mark squeezes him gently. "I miss Harlan too," Adam says softly.

"You should be able to call him again soon, whenever you want."

That makes Adam smile a bit. It never fails to make Mark smile too, like an echo. He squeezes Adam again gently, and they rise to move through the rest of the museum.

It's the quietest date Mark thinks he's ever been on, other than their own soft talking. Usually it's drinks; word games. Adam just holds Mark's hand and beams around. Mark does have a sudden urge to get him tipsy, wonders if he drinks at all.

When he asks, Adam looks a little unsure. "Not much - it makes me feel too out of control sometimes. But - I have a beer with my friends from the observatory sometimes."

"I'd like to do that with you," Mark tells him.

"Now?"

"Maybe when we're done here? If that's okay."

"Okay." Adam nods agreeably. "Don't you have to drive?"

"A beer or two won't hurt." When Adam looks preoccupied, he adds - "one beer."

"One beer," Adam relents. He tucks himself under Mark's open arm then, unexpectedly tactile. "Are you ready to leave?" he asks.

"If you are."

Adam nods. "Let's walk around town a little. I think I'd like a walk."

"Sure, yeah."

Mark quickly pulls up a map just to be sure where they are. He doesn't want to stress Adam out with getting them lost. Luckily, they don't have far to go.

Adam pulls his parka tight around himself as they walk, sticking close to Mark's side even as he looks around. Mark himself looks around with residual awareness. He's not worried, though. Not really. It's just a very old habit.

"It's so small here," Adam says, interrupting his hypervigilance.

"It is," Mark agrees.

"Is your town bigger or smaller in France?"

"Oh; much smaller. Tiny, really. I wanted it to be."

"How come?"

"I wanted to know everyone around me, for once in my life."

"Who do you know?"

"My neighbors, the shopkeepers, the parish priest, the old men who sit on the park benches, the farmers who come to the village to sell fresh produce... "

"Do you like them?"

"Most of them. They like me."

"You're very likeable," Adam says knowingly.

Mark looks down, smiling. "So are you."

"I'm not really, but that's okay."

"You are, Adam, you really are. You're magnificent." Mark really wants to kiss him again. He stalls in the street, catching his hand. "Come here," he murmurs.

Adam does, smile spreading uncertainly.

"Is - may I kiss you?" he asks.

"I'd like that, Mark. You don't have to ask."

Acknowledging the permission, Mark pulls him even closer. "I do, though." He dips his head.

"I don't mind." Adam promises softly, words buzzing between their lips.

Mark nuzzles him softly before he kisses them. Adam's fingers, like always, curl into his clothes and sweetly clutch. It's the simplest of connections.

Mark feels him push up for more, a soft sigh escaping him. He steadies his waist and lets him lean. When Adam leans back, he licks his lips and smiles again.

"Nice," he says.

"Oh yeah?" Mark chuckles.

"Very," Adam says.

"I'm glad to hear it."

"You should do it again later."

"I'll bear that in mind." Mark takes Adam's hand and leads him back down the street toward city hall. He feels incredibly, unexpectedly light.

They walk through a park and see several historic buildings before Adam tugs him to a stop again - outside a bar. They smile at one another and then go inside. Since it's only late afternoon, the place is nearly empty. Adam seems to approve.

"Let's sit in the corner? I would like ah - the lowest alcohol beer they have, please."

"I'll take care of it," Mark smiles. He's amused at Adam pointing him to the human interaction side of things. He doesn't mind, of course. Especially not just to get a drink in. He has practice. Maybe sometime he can take Adam up to the bar with him, teach him what questions to ask. Though - maybe it's not that. He suspects Adam's issues are with variables, not simply talking. Maybe it's just lack of practice.

He takes their drinks back to the booth Adam has picked. Adam thanks him politely when he hands over the glass. He takes a sip, looking around. "Do you think it'll be hard to date if you live in France?"

Mark pauses, taken aback. When will he stop being surprised by how direct Adam is? It's... refreshing. "It might be challenging, but there are ways around it."

Adam nods, then tries his beer. "What ways? We could Skype," he muses.

"I could visit you," Mark tells him, but Adam is studying him with his head tipped to the side slightly.

"What do you do for money if you work at a reduced rate for Lena?"

"I have savings."

"How much? You're not old. Will you ever go back to work again?"

"Not if I can help it."

"Not even another type of job?"

"Not much."

"Hm." Adam looks thoughtful. A little confused.

"What is it?" Mark asks.

"I just don't know how that would feel. Being - retired."

"It's a lot like being on vacation all the time," Mark muses.

Adam sniffs. "Vacation?"

"What, you've never had one?"

"My dad used to take me to the beach for the day, but only off season. It was too loud otherwise."

"You never took a week off work?"

"Not, uh. Not really."

"Why not?"

"Why would I?"

"Because - just working all the time is exhausting?"

"I suppose," Adam mumbles.

Suddenly, Mark is seized by an idea - impulsive and uncurbed. "Would you like a vacation?"

"What, now?"

"When we get back to California. I'll take one too. We can spend it together."

"Mark," Adam says, looking surprised.

"Is that a no?"

"It's not a no or I would have said no," Adam points out.

Mark presses his smile into a patient line. He sips his beer. He remembers to give Adam space to breathe.

"A vacation to France?" Adam follows through.

"If you like. You seemed interested."

"I've never been to France." He pauses. "I've never been outside of the States - and I need a certain amount of order."

"You also need a passport. Do you have one?"

"I have a passport, yes."

"I'd love for you to visit me, if you like."

"I think I'd like it but - what about work -?"

"I think after all of this, the director will give you some vacation time," Mark says gently.

Adam fidgets a bit, visibly weighing. "I can ask."

"Just let me know. I won't book a flight back until you've decided."

He watches Adam pause, and then sweetly nod. "Okay."

He just wants more time together. He's so glad Adam wants it too.

"I can't speak French," he warns Mark softly.

"I'll translate."

"I'm fussy."

"I'm aware of that."

"I get anxious."

"I can help. I won't get annoyed."

Adam pauses. "Promise?"

"I promise." Mark hears the hidden hurt there - _like the_ _others_. He takes Adam's hand and his smile is shy, surprised. Mark would do so much for this sweet man.

"I've never done anything like this before," Adam says softly, "but I seem to have this week."

"You're a brave man," Mark says.

"I'm not. I just had to."

"But you did it. So you are."

Adam looks up at him from under the fall of his fringe where his head is ducked. "Is that what you do?"

"I think it was in the beginning."

"And what changed?"

"I got used to it, I suppose."

"Hard to get used to."

Mark sips his beer. "People adapt. It's what we do."

"If they can," Adam agrees. He studies Mark for a moment, and then Mark feels the toe of his sneaker bump gently against his shin. "I can," he clarifies. "I want to."

He keeps running his toes up Mark's ankle for a moment. Mark squeezes his hand, and nudges gently back. It makes Adam smile. "How's your beer?" Mark asks teasingly.

"I like it."

Mark likes how his cheeks are flushed. "I'm glad."

"I like you too." A note of flirtation there. The more he relaxes, the more his personality shines. Shy, and careful, but funny and shrewd and so smart, too.

"I'm even more glad." He studies Adam fondly for a moment. "Will your friend Harlan mind you coming on vacation?"

"Oh, hm. Probably not. He might worry a bit though, but given the past week or so, maybe he won't."

"Maybe not." Mark is still toying idly with Adam's fingers. He notices Adam is smiling. "Are you flirting, Adam?" Mark says softly.

"Yes, though I suppose if you’re asking, I’m not doing a good job." He laughs.

"Keep going," Mark suggests. He's ruthlessly endeared by the thought Adam appears to put into it. He can see it all simmering under the surface.

"This morning, when we went back to bed..."

"Yes?" Mark murmurs.

He watches Adam's shy smile stretch. "It was nice. I think you agree."

"I do agree."

"I want to do it again, do you agree with that?"

"Completely, Adam."

"Are we still taking things slow?" Adam asks carefully.

"I think that would be wise, don't you?"

"I know you think so, but I'm not really happy about it," Adam says.

That takes Mark by surprise, and he laughs slightly. "Oh? Why not?"

"I think you know, Mark."

"I'd like you to tell me, so we're clear."

"I'm not a virgin, and I like sex as much as you do," Adam continues, pink cheeked but confident.

"I'm sure that's true," Mark smiles, a little curl of desire going through him at the thought. "Are you trying to tell me you're feeling frustrated?"

"Just that I -" Adam halts, like he's assessing whether it's okay to be this frank - "I want you. And I don't mind going slow if that's - what you want, but I just wondered if you did because of this morning."

Mark thinks of how to reply. He doesn't want to. But he should. "I don't want to."

Adam waits, eyes still serious. He just... can't say no anymore.

"Let's just - wait until we're both released from the brief, okay?"

Adam nods, mouth twisting a bit. "Have I offended you -?"

"No, I'm glad you said something."

"Good." He smiles. "I hope it happens soon," he adds.

"It will. We'll head back tomorrow."

Adam nods. "You'll stay with me again tonight?"

"Of course I will. I want to," he adds.

"Well. Good." Adam tries a smile.

Mark squeezes his fingers, wishing he could pull him into his lap again. "Okay?" he checks.

"I'm great," Adam whispers.

"That's true."

The smile grows. "You sound confident, Mark."

"I have no evidence to indicate anything otherwise."

"Very scientific."

"Thought I'd take a leaf out of your book."

"That doesn't happen too much," Adam replies.

"Good, I hate being predictable."

Adam tips his head to the side. "You do."

"I do."

"Is that professional or personal?"

"It's a little of both."

"I like predictable, though," Adam murmurs.

Mark smiles, because of course he does. "I'll bear that in mind." He eyes Adam's glass. "Want another?"

"No thank you," Adam says politely, "maybe a coke?"

"Or dinner back at the house?" Mark suggests instead.

"Yes. Can we get a movie?"

"I'd like that."

"Okay." Grinning, Adam gets up and pulls on his coat. Then he pulls Mark to his feet. "Let's go!" Mark is only too happy to comply.

*

They go back to the safehouse. Make dinner. Adam puts on the movie they buy off pay-per-view. It doesn't feel like a date now; it feels like two people who are figuring out how to cohabitate. Mark finds he likes it more than he expected. He's entirely content.

Adam seems it too, curled comfortably next to him on the couch. He turns to Mark and watches him for a moment. "How did you get into this job?"

"When my military service was up," Mark says. "They have a way of roping you in without you realizing, don't they?"

"I suppose." Adam looks at him over top of the pillow he's hugging.

"They'll probably have you on it soon, too," Mark muses.

"What? Why?"

Mark pauses, realizing he probably could have kept that thought to himself. "The Director will be pleased with your work," he deflects.

"I suppose so."

"As she should be. And you as well."

"It's only code, it's easy." Adam shrugs. Mark reaches over to touch his shoulder. Adam smiles at him. "Hi."

"Come here?" Mark asks him.

He slides obligingly closer. Mark pulls him into his arms. A smile spreads across Adam's face in understanding when Mark bends to kiss him. "That's better."

"It is," Adam agrees softly.

"You can keep watching the movie, if you like." Mark just wants to be close.

"Okay." Adam nods faintly.

Mark pulls him close enough to play with his hair, because he has the urge to. He's surprised at how rigid Adam is at first, and then he seems to melt a little. Mark kisses under his ear to soothe him.

"That tickles," Adam tells him softly.

"Should I stop?"

"Tickling isn't bad."

"Oh, well then." He kisses gently again.

Adam makes a small noise. His hand snags Mark's wrist, keeping him close. It means he can't play with Adam's hair any longer, but he can scent softly behind his ear instead.

Adam lets out a shivery little sigh. Mark echoes it helplessly. His breath catches when Adam turns his cheek and catches his mouth in another kiss. He's simply obsessed. Both with Adam and his sure, steady kisses. He's always fascinating. Never so much as when he's pulling Mark closer with purpose.

Mark steels his resolve and lets him. He wants so badly to lose control. Adam wants him to as well. It's torture.

He steers him back very gently. "Let me go check in with Lena." Adam grumbles. "I want to know when we can go home," Mark explains, getting up to grab his phone.

Adam nods at that. He goes back to holding the pillow, absently twisting at the tassel on the corner. Mark walks into the kitchen where he can still see the couch, and dials.

"Mark," Lena sounds a little stressed, for once.

"Hi, Lena."

"Hadn't heard from you since this morning, I was getting worried."

"About what? I told you it was handled."

"And yet," she says dryly.

He scoffs. "And it was handled. Tell me what's happening with the Director."

"Waiting on the all clear for Perseus."

"Can we head home tomorrow?"

"I'll give you confirmation, but it should be safe."

"Thank you."

"It's all right."

"Anything else you can tell me right now?" he asks patiently.

"Brown is in custody, his accomplice undergoing medical care."

"Who does he really work for?"

"It's looking likely that it's Russian intelligence."

"Is US intelligence playing nice?" Maybe getting Adam out of the country for a while will be a good thing - the last thing he wants to see is Adam working in DC.

"They're being very cooperative. Director Collins is anxious to see that Mr. Raki remains calm."

Mark sneaks a look at the couch. "As am I," he agrees. Adam has been suspiciously calm all day. He'd like to think it's his influence, but he's prepared for a reoccurrence of anxiety as well.

She hums. "I see."

He's not sure she does. "What will be the deal with withdrawal and debrief?" he asks.

"I take it you'll be staying for Mr. Raki's session as well as your own?" she returns.

"Yes."

"How long is your drive tomorrow?"

"A few hours."

"I'll try to get you in with the director after lunch. I have another of my people with her right now."

"Much obliged."

"I think it is me who ought to say that to you."

"Even so," Mark shrugs.

"The reward for Brown's capture, if he is a Russian agent... " Lena trails off suggestively.

Mark's head tilts at that. "What about it?"

"It could be nearly enough to pay your debt," she murmurs.

"What about the courier? I didn't act alone."

"He's one of mine, you know that. He'll be compensated fairly."

Mark considers, then glances back at Adam. "You mean it?"

"I can't let you lose my number," she warns gently.

"I'm sure you couldn't."

He thinks it over for a minute. The feeling of hope... "I'd appreciate it," he adds quietly.

"I know, Mark."

He nods. "Adam - he'll be safe after this? Right?"

"I believe so."

"Okay." He nods. "Okay." He takes a slow breath. "I need some time off, now," he tells her.

"I think that's reasonable."

"Glad you agree."

She snorts softly. "You'd have taken it anyway, I suppose."

"I knew you'd agree."

He can just picture her tired expression. "Go home, Mark," she whispers, "hide away."

"I will." And he won't be alone. He hopes. He hangs up the phone and goes back to Adam where he's hugging himself on the couch. "Hey," he murmurs.

"Hi, Mark."

"Are you okay?"

"Of course."

"We can go back tomorrow," Mark tells him.

Adam's expression brightens exponentially. "Great!"

"It sure is." Hoping, Mark opens his arms.

Adam is visibly surprised; pleased too, the evidence of it presenting as a tucked smile when he pushes himself up into Mark's arms. "You want to stay like this," he comments.

"Like this?" Mark smiles.

"Close," Adam says, mouth twitching minutely.

"Observant, aren't you?" Mark teases.

"I am," Adam protests faintly.

"You are." He leans in for another slow kiss.

Adam clutches his shirt with a sigh. "Let's stay like this, Mark."

"All right."

He's warm and sweet-smelling. Mark doesn't think he could bear to let him go either. He feels like something he might've ordinarily had to give up. But this - he doesn't think he can. "You're beautiful," he tells him softly.

"So are you."

Mark shakes his head. "No, I don't think so."

"Then you're wrong, Mark."

"Well, you're the scientist."

"I am. And I know I'd rather look at you than mostly anything else."

As always, Mark is floored by him. He can't help his grin. "Me or the stars?" he teases.

"Can't I have both?"

"I don't know if you could look at us both at once."

"Of course I can." Adam smiles. "I'd like to. Frequently."

"You'll have to bring a telescope with you to France."

"Yes," he nods, "I have the perfect one."

"I expected nothing less."

He touches Adam's hair again, tracing the way it waves over his forehead. Smooth and easy as anything, Adam catches his hand on its path back down to his shoulder and kisses Mark's palm.

"I like kissing you too."

"Well, I can help you out there."

Adam glances up at him through his lashes, a moment of sparkling blue contact. "You're a man of many skills, apparently."

Mark nods, fingers going to Adam's face; eyebrow, cheekbone, jaw. A press against his lower lip. He hears the little hitch of his breath. "Where should I kiss you first?" he murmurs.

"My - my cheek." Mark does, softly. "Both," Adam says quickly.

With a laugh, he repeats the kiss. "Where next?"

Adam's cheeks look pink. "Eyelids?" He murmurs.

His lashes flutter against Mark's lips when he kisses. It's a startling, appealing sensation. He cups Adam's face and kisses the other more slowly. This time, he hears Adam's tiny sigh.

"Where next?"

"Neck?" Adam breathes.

Mark dips his head and revels in the way Adam exposes his throat. He's been fantasizing about it, honestly. And it's even lovelier than he imagined. When he dips his head, he just breathes in for a moment. Soap and softness. His skin is warm and silky. Mark trails his lips down to the just - exposed jut of a clavicle. He gives it a long moment of attention.

"I didn't say there yet," Adam teases.

"It's adjacent," Mark murmurs.

"That's not the point."

"Bossy thing." Mark moves obligingly back to his neck, however. He likes Adam's little laugh. He can feel it vibrate the skin.

"That's nice, Mark."

Mark thinks it's nice too. He kisses up to the underside of his chin with a content hum. The very slightest amount of stubble, and what seems like acres of soft skin.

"My mouth now?" Adam whispers.

Mark makes the most of the short stretch of skin. Adam's little noise of pleasure buzzes against his lips. He tries to evoke one again.

"Mark," he says it soft and needy.

This time Mark covers his lips as promised. It's languid and soft and intimate. Mark hopes he can stay here for a while. He wraps his arms around Adam and sighs in relief when Adam relaxes into it happily. No demands to move to other parts of his face. Just the press of his soft body.

Mark controls his breathing. Adam does no such thing. He's so clearly lost in the sensations. Mark lets himself get lost too, until their movie ends, and the sky goes dark outside. He can't hold back his smile when Adam yawns into his shoulder.

"Bedtime, darling boy?"

"Darling boy," Adam echoes softly, as he nods.

"You don't like it?"

"I've never been called that before."

"Not even the woman you were... "

"She called me Adam," he says, "maybe ‘babe' a few times."

Mark sniffs. Not nearly as evocative.

"What is it?" Adam asks, as he starts getting changed for bed in the bedroom.

Mark has no idea how to explain. He doesn't answer until they're washed up and ready to sleep.

"I wish I knew how to say how special I find you, Adam."

They curl into bed facing one another. Mark feels inexplicably young and foolish, but Adam is smiling when their gazes snag. "You don't have to say, Mark. I can tell."

"Can you? How?"

"You're very careful. I think part of that is just you, but I assume the rest of it is me. It feels nice. You change how you interact with me, and don’t expect me to catch up with you instead. No pressure to be ‘normal’. I think you’ve been looking for someone who doesn’t expect you to be normal, either."

Mark feels an odd surge of warmth. "Is there anything you don't understand, Adam?" he whispers.

"Lots of things, Mark. I could list them off, but I think we need to sleep more."

"Tell me the list sometime," Mark whispers.

"It's not that interesting."

"I still want to know."

"That's why you're special, Mark." Adam yawns again.

"Why?"

"Because you care."

"Very much," Mark agrees.

Adam leans in and kisses him. "Good night, Mark."

"Good night, Adam."

The silence settles over them like a warm blanket. Mark winds Adam up in his arms and thinks of the trip back to LA.

//

Adam practically vibrates with nerves on the drive back to San Francisco. Part of it is the uncertainty of what happens next - at home, at work, with his code. Part of it is an incredible buildup of frustration. He _wants_. Mark is so close, never more than an arm's reach away. And yet there's an unseen distance too, even in the minute space between them in bed.

He has a name for it: Mark's sense of duty. Adam never thought he'd consider a concept his mortal enemy. But this one, oh, he can't help it.

"How much longer?" he asks, a little whine in the thick of the question.

"Forty minutes?" Mark hums, sounding distracted.

"And we have to go to see the director?"

"Yes, they're expecting us. Lena's representative will be waiting."

Adam nods. "And then we can go home?"

"Yes," Mark murmurs. "Then we go home."

"And you're coming too," Adam checks.

"Yes," Mark repeats softly.

"Okay."

Maybe, finally, it will be time for duty to stop.

Finally they get to the operations center, and Mark pulls up in the parking lot. Adam reaches over to touch his hand briefly.

"Ready?" Mark asks.

"I think so." He doesn't know, though.

"Come on. Let's get it over with." They exit the car in perfect synchrony.

The debrief is like nothing Adam expected - a nondisclosure agreement, a compensation settlement for Adam (unnecessary, in his opinion), and a recommendation for temporary leave brought forward by Mark himself.

No one argues with the recommendation, though. The director looks especially pleased to grant it.

"On your return, Adam, we'll talk about your bright future here," she tells him at the end of the meeting.

He nods automatically. "Thank you, Director Collins." His eyes stray to Lena - who had surprised Mark by showing up in person. She smiles at him encouragingly.

Adam is more than a little afraid of her, despite her kind expressions. She has Mark's stillness but something he doesn't have too: clear detachment. He avoids her eyes and skirts close to Mark.

"What will you do with your leave, Mr. Raki?" She asks.

"Spend some time in the country, I think," he mumbles. He glances at Mark, somewhat covertly now. Somehow he thinks Lena knows what he's about. "Can we go?" he asks, bluntly. "I'm tired."

"Of course. I'll drive you home," Mark says promptly.

"Thank you." Adam fidgets, and nods to Director Collins. "Ma'am."

"Get some rest, Adam," she replies.

"I will." He tells himself not to blush.

Mark gives him a gentle smile as they head back to the car, and they drive back to Adam's in silence. When they park in front of Adam's condo, he says politely, "Will you come in?"

"Of course, Adam."

"And stay overnight?"

A little smile at that. "If you're sure that's what you want."

"Mark, I am very, very sure," Adam says emphatically.

"So am I." He pulls his bag out of the car and follows Adam to his door.

Inside, it occurs to Adam, quite slowly considering how fast his brain usually works, that this is it: the moment they've both been waiting for. "Do you need anything?" he asks hesitantly.

Mark turns to him, setting his bag down and starting to unbutton his jacket. "Just one thing."

"What - What is it?" Adam breathes.

Mark slings his jacket onto the couch and dips his mouth to Adam's all in one smooth movement, hands cupping his face gently. Adam leans into it eagerly, fisting the front of his shirt. It's lost all the carefulness from before. Finally, Mark is kissing him like he wants to.

Adam has already shown him he doesn't need the care. He presses in closer; sighs when Mark's arms tighten around him. "You know where my room is, Mark," he urges softly.

He stutters when Mark nods; starts to steer him there. The thought of being in bed with Mark - of being naked with Mark - he can barely breathe.

"Mark, will you tell me -?"

"Tell you what, darling?"

"What you want," Adam whispers.

"I want what you want."

"I want sex," Adam clarifies, "I want you, to touch you like I'm allowed - am I allowed?"

"You are definitely allowed."

That breaks loose another shaky breath from Adam's throat. He tips his chin up as Mark bends to kiss it. "Will you fuck me?" he asks. "I think I want that most of all."

The heat of Mark's soft, shocked exhale makes him blush. "You're sure?"

"I've wanted it for a long time. I want it to be you."

He doesn't say anything else for a long moment, just pushing his nose under Adam's ear and gently clutching him tighter. "I want you so much, Adam. I'll make it good."

"Thank you, Mark."

He leads Mark the rest of the way upstairs. He's intrigued by his smile. His air of knowing anticipation. In Adam's room, he watches Mark look around for a moment before he gathers the courage to move forward and touch the hem of his shirt questioningly.

Mark smiles down at him. "Want something?"

"Can I undress you?"

"I'd love that."

That's a yes, Adam reminds himself. He moves to pull the soft cotton over Mark's head, marveling at the soft fuzz of his chest - all his to touch, he thinks with delight. He must be smiling, because Mark kisses the corner of his mouth with a soft laugh.

"Keep going, you're not quite there yet," he teases softly.

Adam lets himself linger on his chest a moment longer before he goes for his belt. The buckle gives with a satisfying clink. Adam sets it aside before he moves onto Mark's flies.

Mark seems to have no issue with his pace, which is admittedly slow. He wants to savor it. Wants to savor Mark's sheer acquiescence. For some reason, it feels extra special. And every inch that he reveals is mouthwateringly good. At his shorts, Mark stalls his hands gently with his own.

"Can I return the favor?"

"Yes, please," Adam feels a slight quiver.

Mark's hands are warm and gentle as he undresses Adam. He moves just at the same speed Adam has - whether it's conscious or not, Adam can't be sure. "Mark," he says softly, as his hand skims Adam's belly.

Mark leans in and kisses the curve of his jaw. He draws him into his arms, and Adam is warmed and moved alike by the gentleness. His breath comes a little short. "All right?" Mark smiles.

"Great, Mark. Great." He steps back. "Can we - lie down?"

"Please."

Adam steps back, Mark close behind. He pulls back the covers, wrinkling his nose at the faint mustiness. "I should change these."

"After," Mark suggests. "I'll help."

"But it smells - "

"Soon it will smell like us."

"I guess," Adam agrees. Then Mark's hands wrap around his waist instead. He kisses Adam deeply, disrupting his curls and tipping him down gently onto the mattress. Adam accepts his weight eagerly.

It's a branding heat, wanting him, being wanted by him. His mouth is back to exploring. Kisses creeping down Adam's neck and shoulders. He squirms until he can deliver some of his own.

Mark cups his face and kisses him gently. And Adam breaks free to kiss down his chest. He's curious about what will elicit a reaction; what feels unquestionably good. He touches at Mark's chest; thumbs over his nipples curiously. That gets a reaction he enjoys.

"Adam," Mark breathes, "that's good -"

"You're _beautiful_ , Mark."

"So are you."

There are so many scars and ridges of muscle to touch. Adam is fascinated; has to hold back from asking. He wants to know, but he wants to - god. To have sex. He's so hard. Needy even. "Mark," he whispers, "tell me what you want me to do. Anything."

"Adam," Mark breathes. "I - would like your mouth on me."

Breath catching in his throat, Adam nods. He wants that too. It's hard to ignore what Mark is hiding under the thin cotton of his briefs. They move, smooth and careful, until Mark is sat back, and Adam can bend over to kiss his stomach; start to tug at his waistband. He's never seen another man up close like this, he thinks, biting his lip. Maybe in porn. But not to touch.

Swallowing his nerves, he curls his fingers into Mark's waistband and tugs, humming when Mark smoothly lifts his hips to help. Oh, he likes this. Creamy pale skin, cock flushed red. A curl of scent, earthy and warm. He swallows, then covers Mark's hips with his hands. Mark obligingly holds still for his tentative first licks.

"Okay -?" He checks, one hand combing gently into Adam's fringe.

Adam nods. He's intrigued, most of all. Aroused, too. His own groin feels heavy. With a contemplative little hum, he strokes down the length of Mark's cock experimentally before he takes the head into his mouth.

Mark makes a soft noise. His hand is still hovering carefully, but Adam isn't much interested in that. He theoretically knows what will produce the best outcome. The foreskin causes him a moment of consternation, but more fascination. A few careful downstrokes take care of that. He keeps fondling the soft skin for another moment, watching it glide. Above him, Mark heaves a short breath. Adam kisses his thigh in apology.

"Feels fine," Mark assures, a little breathless.

"Just fine?"

"Good, Adam."

Adam licks again. Mark sighs when his tongue works under the glans of his cock and Adam hums, filing it away. He seals his lips and gently sucks. This is what Mark asked for, after all. He hears his hissing breath around Adam's name and thinks that's a good sign.

He's rather enjoying himself. Mark tastes, smells, sounds good. He smooths his own spit over the hard flesh, working him with his hand now as well. It's a few moments before he's brave enough to swallow him deeper. That gets a louder groan.

"Adam – careful…" he tugs a little on Adam's hair.

Adam just hums impatiently: he knows. He gentles his tongue a bit and Mark strokes his hair. Adam keeps sucking.

"God, Adam," Mark breathes.

Adam squeezes his hips. He likes all the little ticks and clenches of his muscles. His control, and the release of it. It seems to culminate in the tightening and relaxing of his fingers in Adam's hair. Adam nuzzles him briefly.

Mark skims his thumb against the corner of his mouth. It feels good, being touched. Adam closes his eyes. Maybe Mark might like to switch places soon. Or kiss him some more. His head is spinning a little.

He sits up, and Mark sits up and kisses him. "Your turn, darling?"

"Just need a breath," Adam mutters.

"You may have it." Mark kisses him gently along his jaw.

Adam clings to him, breathing hard, nosing close. "Did you like it?" He asks.

"I love it." He kisses again.

Adam sighs and clutches at his shoulders, melting into it. Mark lifts him into his lap. His hand covers the shape of Adam through his shorts; strokes him long and firm through the fabric. Adam whines and wriggles at the sensation.

"Mark," he pleads softly.

"Darling, you look so good like this," Mark soothes.

"Kiss me again," Adam asks. Mark does, as he strokes him. It's barely seconds before Adam feels restless and hot, need stoked to fierceness. "I am... very aroused, Mark, please," he mumbles.

"Tell me what you want."

"Prep me now," Adam orders shakily.

He feels Mark's breath against his neck. "Do you have lube, darling?" he asks.

"Yes," he tries not to sound petulant.

"Where is it?"

"I'll get it." He pushes himself out of Mark's lap. He's wobbly even leaning to the bookcase close to the bed; he hasn't been this hard in ages.

When he sits back up, Mark slides his underwear down his thighs after asking permission. He settles Adam back over his lap, face down this time, murmuring encouragement. Adam shifts for a moment, squirming to get comfortable. With his elbows planted, he can wriggle his hips. Mark's thigh offers tantalizing friction.

"All right?" Mark asks, stroking down his spine gently.

"Yes," Adam whispers. "I'm ready."

Mark's fingers slip down between his cheeks, sure where Adam's have only ever been tentative. The first slick press makes him sigh. Mark kisses the back of his neck; murmurs as he presses deeper with his finger. It feels - strange, but good. Adam tells him so, in a soft voice.

"Good, just tell me if you need me to stop."

Adam nods, wriggling again: he doesn’t want him to stop anytime soon. He can feel Mark gently angling his fingers; stroking down as he starts to gently fuck him. Most of the strokes find his prostate. He can't help the noises that bleed out of his lips at the surprising, loud pleasure of it.

Mark doesn't seem to mind at all, his own voice a low murmur of praise. "Gorgeous," he whispers against Adam's ear, "so beautiful, Adam."

He loves how Mark is always talking to him. "Feels good," he sighs, "really good."

"So do you."

Adam takes a shuddering breath as he rocks back on his fingers. He could come like this, he thinks; feels like he might, if Mark spends enough time. His other hand is warm on Adam's chest, summoning a heated flush.

Adam squirms. "More please—" He gets a slow twist of knuckles inside him. "Ohh - _Mark_... " He knows it's his prostate, but he can't get the words out to ask. He buries his face in his arms and moans helplessly, squirming and arching, unable to be self-conscious. Mark's fingers tangle in the damp curls at his nape. "Mark," Adam warns again softly. It's a lot, sensitive and new.

"I don't want this to hurt," Mark mumbles.

"It doesn't hurt, it feels good - I want to kiss you again, I want more."

"Christ," Mark mutters. "Me too, Adam." He lets Adam shift in his lap, curling his arms around his neck. He can't thrust as deep this way, but Adam rocks down anyway.

Mark kisses him like he's savoring the taste of his noises. Adam can't stopper them up, especially not now. He clasps at Mark's hair; arches down harder. "Please."

Mark presses his face into his neck. "Let me get a condom," he grits.

"There's some in the bathroom cabinet, I can go."

"No, you stay." Mark lifts him and deposits him against the pillows.

It makes Adam a little breathless, but he just nods and watches Mark go into the adjoining washroom. He can't help but stroke at the head of his aching cock, just a little, chest hitching. Watching Mark is so, so good. When he returns, he gives Adam a once over, and his own soft gasp is audible.

"Adam... "

"Yes?" Adam turns his face up hopefully.

Mark kisses him as he slips over him in the bed. "You look like an angel."

"So touch me."

Mark nods silently, hands sliding up his sides. Adam fumbles with the condom Mark brought, opening it up. He's never put one on someone else, but he can't pass up the chance to touch him again. It's an easier, smoother movement than he thought it would be. And Mark's expression makes him bite his lip.

"Like this?" Mark asks.

"I'm ready."

He watches Mark select the lube from before. He covers his cock carefully with the slick gel. Adam can't help licking his lips at the sight, and he shifts with Mark's hands, letting him bundle the duvet up under Adam's hips before he cups his hips and settles.

"Pull your legs up," he murmurs.

It feels incredibly vulnerable, even more than before. Adam's face turns a bit pink as he complies. Mark's hands soothe him.

"Ready?" He whispers.

Adam nods, biting his lip again as he feels the slick blunt head of his cock. Mark is watching him so intently. He's careful but not hesitant. Heavy and filling and comforting, even with the slight stretch of discomfort. Having him inside is an assault of heat and thrilling sensation. He grips his shoulders tight and gasps.

Mark leans in to kiss him. "Okay?" he whispers.

"Yes," Adam breathes. "Feels so good."

He watches Mark look down at him in adoration. It's breathtaking. He can read him so easily now. It's so refreshing.

And arousing. He wraps a hand tentatively around his cock. Mark's rough breath of realization sends a bolt of heat through him.

"Let me watch," he murmurs.

"Mark," Adam breathes, closing his eyes. He keeps stroking in time with the pulses of Mark's hips. He's so worked up already; he has to slow down. He squeezes instead. Mark's thumbs are gently rubbing circles. "It's so nice, Mark."

"Good, good, you feel perfect, Adam."

"I'm glad."

That makes Mark laugh softly. He kisses him gently. "Are you close, darling?"

"I have been since the first second you touched me," Adam admits.

"Patient, then," Mark breathes.

"I guess so." He feels aflame.

Mark's movements grow in speed and purpose. Adam lets himself moan again. It's overwhelming, pressure and heat and newness. He feels so close. He can't control the noises he's making; the soft pleas that slip out of his mouth.

Mark watches him intently. He keeps pressing gentle kisses to Adam's chest and shoulders, his own broad body caved over him like a shield. It's slow and inevitable and exactly what he needs.

"Mark," Adam says shakily, thighs trembling just slightly, his hand still firm around the base of his cock.

Mark kisses his lips instead.

"It's okay, Adam, whenever you're ready. Do you need anything?"

"Keep kissing me."

That gets a soft laugh. "Anytime."

"Well, how about now?"

Mark kisses him in reply, long drugging things. It's entirely too good to surface from; Adam feels pulled down to the bottom of a warm ocean. Their hips move together; Adam's fingers start to tunnel too.

"Mark," he gasps. "Mark, I need to come."

"Tell me what to do."

"Touch me, please."

"Whatever you want."

Mark's hand joins his, rough and warm and still gentle. A huge, shuddering breath breaks out of Adam. His hips jerk into it. Mark rocks and strokes and kisses him, and Adam can hardly keep it together before he scatters apart for good. He cries out.

It doesn't stop for a long time; Mark doesn't let it die out. He keeps moving like he's compelled. Adam shudders and arches. Mark drops his head to his shoulder and groans.

Adam grasps his sides and cries out softly. He can feel the pulse deep inside him. Shocking, the realization of their closeness. It makes him moan again, soft and breathless. He can't let go of Mark's shoulders. Their cheeks press together, chests rising and falling with slowing breath.

"Wow," Adam mumbles.

"Good?"

"I didn't expect it to feel like that. It was good, yes – really good."

He feels Mark's smile. "I'm glad, Adam." He breathes out slowly. "So glad."

Adam thinks he sounds a little - worried? Surprised? He's not quite sure. "Mark?" he starts.

"Mm?" He can't think of the right question, so he just wriggles a little. Mark kisses behind his ear. "I'm not usually so moved by things."

"That's... sad, Mark."

Weirdly, Mark laughs. "I guess so." He shifts, enough to pull away from Adam and lie down next to him. Then he tuts and gets up to get rid of the condom. Adam grumbles a little, sitting up and wrapping his arms around himself. "All right?" Mark asks.

He's still feeling shivery. "Yeah, I'm a little tired."

"Would you like to shower and let me change the sheets?" Mark asks softly.

"You don't know where the linens are." Mark just eyes him. "I can tell you," he allows.

"Do you do it in a special order? I can wait for you to get back."

Adam's not sure when he'll get over how Mark just... understands, and doesn't try to argue. "Thank you," he says softly. He stands up, allows Mark to draw him close by the waist and kiss him.

His fingers comb gently through Adam's hair. "Go shower up, darling." Adam nods, torn between cleaning up and more kissing. "I'll be here when you get back," Mark assures softly.

Adam nods and hurries into his bathroom. It is also reassuring to be in his own condo again, with his own things.

He showers away some of the caution of the day, and goes back out in his pajamas, rendered speechless for a moment by the sight of Mark, naked and unconcerned, sat reading on his bed.

"Do you need a change of clothes?" he whispers, mouth dry.

Mark glances up. "Maybe some pajama bottoms?"

Adam nods. He pulls them out of a drawer and then goes for the sheets. He finds when he returns that he rather regrets handing them over. The soft cotton clings to Mark like a second skin. On second thought, it is an incredibly pleasing sight.

"We should get dinner," he says, slowly.

"After we make the bed." Mark smiles and hands him a fitted sheet.

They strip the old bedding off between them. Mark mirrors Adam as they smooth the new sheets on and tuck them in. He doesn't seem worried by the specific way the pillows are laid, nor the way his weighted blanket is precisely folded across the bottom. It's so restful not to be questioned.

When they're done, Mark tucks his hair behind his ear gently. "Let's get dinner."

Adam follows him downstairs. He's definitely starting to appreciate the too - small pajama pants now. All the muscles in Mark's back are more obvious in the evening light. The cotton clings to his curves below.

"See something you like, sweet?" Mark asks absently.

"Am I staring?" Adam mumbles. "I - do that a lot."

"I know that. I don't mind."

"I do like it though," Adam says earnestly. "I like it a lot."

After a pause, Mark turns and holds his arms out. "Me too, love."

Adam goes closer and lets himself be cuddled close. It's warm and comforting; his eyes feel heavy when they close. "Dinner," he mumbles into Mark's chest hair.

"Dinner. I'll make you some tea." Adam looks up and he smiles. "Sit down, Adam, I've got this."

"All right." He perches at the kitchen table, out of sorts but not hating it.

Mark starts his mac and cheese heating up before filling the electric kettle. Then he opens a can of soup Adam didn't know he even had in his pantry and starts heating that too. Adam just watches, noting how he gets out all the right things. At the sight of his favorite mug, he sighs happily.

"This is good, Mark."

"You looked like you needed it."

"I'm all right."

"Happy to be home?" Mark asks softly.

"Yes. Even happier that you're here." He can't help but grin. Mark responds well to grins. This one makes him come to Adam and kiss him soundly.

"Your macaroni is almost ready, darling."

"You're not having any?"

"I'll eat the soup, unless you'd rather share."

"No but - you can share mine or - "

"It's all right, Adam, I just need a change." Mark is steady with his movements, and Adam can't read any disapproval in his face or voice.

"Okay," he agrees, settling when Mark shoots him a smile. He is hungry. Especially after what they've just done.

When dinner is ready and they're both sat down, he puts on his show and eats with more content than usual. He doesn't notice immediately, but eventually realizes Mark hasn't looked at his phone all day. The thought makes him smile.

"You really want me to come to France?"

"I really do."

"When?"

As soon as we can arrange tickets."

Adam nods, and then reaches for his laptop to look. Mark comes to sit next to him and watch his screen. They scroll through flight comparisons together, and then Mark nudges him. "Want me to get Lena to book them?"

"Why?" Adam says hesitantly.

"I thought it might just make things less complicated."

"How so?"

"You seem to find travel stressful," Mark shrugs.

"Because it's mostly out of my control," Adam points out.

"All right." Mark shrugs. "Just a suggestion. She'd pay," he adds.

"I have money." Adam feels his face making a stubborn line.

"That's fine then." Mark nods. He leans in and kisses Adam's forehead. "All right, darling. My turn for a shower."

"Yes, go on. I'll clean up."

"Thanks." Mark kisses him.

Adam watches him amble upstairs before he goes to do the dishes. He's cautiously optimistic about all this. He's never met anyone as adaptable as Mark. As patient. As quiet. He's good company. Adam hasn't felt this comfortable weight of anticipation in his chest since - since Beth. And it's even more comfortable than that.

Calmer, he thinks. He needs calm. Sighing at the thought, he dries his hands. He needs to be back in bed with Mark. His muscles are still fatigue heavy, everything satisfied, but he longs for more touch.

He imagines curling under his weighted blanket with Mark's fingers on his chest. All of a sudden, he can't stay downstairs. He takes his laptop up with him. The water is still running when he enters the bedroom.

Adam gets in bed - his side, he supposes - and keeps scanning through airline comparisons. There are many flights to pick from. Adam studies the airline names consideringly. Then he Googles each one to find out their reviews. He's still making notes in a text doc when Mark emerges in a cloud of steam.

"Hello, darling."

"Hi, Mark. I've found us flights I think will be the shortest amount of time traveling, but I could use your advice on the airline."

"Go ahead," Mark scrubs his hair with his towel.

Nervously, Adam reads through his research. He's surprised by how helpful and calm he is. He has personal opinions on the airlines, which Adam of course does not, and quickly they settle on the best flights. Adam insists on buying both tickets.

"My travel was for work," Mark protests, "the company will pay for it."

"Tell them to credit your debt instead," Adam says crisply.

That makes Mark smile. "Perhaps I will."

Adam looks back at the confirmation screen and smiles. A couple of days, and they'll be in France. "Mark?" he says softly.

"Yes, what is it?"

He watches Mark dry himself off, unconcernedly naked. He looks better than Adam knew he could, vulnerable in a way he hadn't anticipated. It makes his mouth dry; he can't find the words for a moment. He wants to say something meaningful.

"I don't think I've ever felt this way before," he offers.

"How do you feel?" Mark murmurs.

Adam thinks about it closely. "Like - I'm discovering new stars."

"Proud?"

"No - no, full of wonder."

Mark steps close enough to touch Adam's hair. "Adam... " his expression is soft.

Adam feels soft too. "Will you kiss me?"

Mark leans down. His mouth is warm. Adam can't help but reach up to touch his chest. He uses both hands, and Mark sighs.

"Keep doing that."

"Come lie down so I can."

Mark looks delighted to be bossed around a bit. He climbs over Adam, settling over his thighs. "How about this?"

"Good, Mark."

That earns him a soft smile. Adam keeps stroking his skin. Mark leans down to kiss him again, a soft press of their lips that feels like a secret. He always feels both gentle and indulgent.

Adam thinks about what he is - a dichotomy in that sense certainly, always so careful with Adam where he isn't with anyone else. Adam wonders if this is the real him, buried under years of hyper vigilance and brutality. He wants to be the one to get the real Mark. He kisses him deeper at the thought.

Mark lets him touch his chest, shoulders, hair. It's so good to feel his breath and skin; good enough Adam's skin prickles with lazy want. He ought to be satisfied from earlier, but he finds he's not.

"Mark... " he arches slowly. "Mark, touch me."

"How shall I touch you, Adam?"

"With your mouth," Adam orders softly.

Another smile. Mark starts to kiss slowly down his throat. "Soft skin," he murmurs.

"Mm?" Adam shivers. Mark's lips are warm. His whole body is awash with awareness. He finds he quite likes the feeling of being spoiled. Little moans and sounds keep slipping away from him before he can stop them. But he thinks they please Mark.

He's still kissing, pulling at Adam's sweatshirt to kiss at his stomach and ribs. Those, he also gives sweet little bites. His hair is damp and soft under Adam's fingers, tangling in long strands. Adam could sift through the colors of it for ages. Not blonde or brown or grey or white. A tawny combination of all. Like a lion.

He sighs softly at the thought. "I love to look at you, Mark."

"Well, I'm naked, and on top of you, so look all you want, sweetheart." Mark is smiling.

Shyness burns Adam's cheeks and ears as he laughs. "I will."

He leans up, starting to lay his own path of kisses. Licking around one of Mark's dusky nipples is his first stop. He'd seemed to like it earlier, and the reaction is just as good now, a soft groan and his hand settling in Adam's hair. He tastes deliciously clean.

"Adam," Mark sighs softly. He lets Adam keep kissing, working his way down his stomach.

When he can't bend any further, he tugs Mark up on his knees so he can mouth slowly at the fattening weight of his cock. The taste is nearly as good as the feel of the slick, velvety skin. Adam is distracted just by that, thumb stroking softly under the head as he licks slow.

Mark braces his hands on the headboard. He sounds breathless on the next utterance of Adam's name. Adam is pleased. He likes this taste. Likes this feeling. If he were to be touched right now, it might be too much, but Mark just holds on to the bed.

Gratefully, Adam takes his time sucking him, experimenting with slow whirls of his tongue. He likes the way he can feel the tremor in his thighs. He's so still other than that, holding himself. Adam tries to take even more of him in, feeling himself start to drool. Mark touches his hair as if to steady him, a weak groan bleeding out. Adam feels a tightening in his own groin. He sucks faster.

Mark is getting hard, making soft, bitten back noises. It's an entirely new sensation. An invasion, but a helpless one. Willing nonetheless. Mark whispers his name, and Adam grips at his waist. He has to pull back to breathe, but he lets one hand pick up where his mouth left off. The other curves around to the crease of his ass, holding.

"Okay?" Mark checks.

Adam nods, glancing upward. "Are you?"

"Yes, I just - want to know what you want, Adam."

"Oh, ah, well - I like this?"

Mark smiles. "For yourself? May I touch you too?"

"Well, I meant I don't mind carrying on but - I like being touched too."

Mark nods, easing off his body and guiding him to his side instead. When he stretches out facing his feet, Adam figures it out.

"Mark - " his ears heat up.

"Keep going," Mark murmurs.

Adam has to watch for a moment though. His stomach quivers as Mark licks a stripe up the underside of his cock. He pushes Adam's thighs apart gently for better access, mouthing at the soft skin on his inner thigh. It tickles, a bit, but Adam tries not to squirm.

An enveloping mouthful of his cock, making him moan, and then Mark licks between his cheeks. It feels good on his still - sensitive skin. "Mark," he whines softly.

"Yes - "

"Oh wow." He pants in overstimulation for a moment before stretching to get his own mouth back on Mark. It's electric, desperate. Mark works his body expertly while Adam gasps and returns strokes with abandon. He wants so badly to please him. To return shiver by shiver what he receives.

It feels like a looping circuit of pleasure. Adam shakes with every duck and stroke. He likes this a _lot_. This is different than it ever was with Beth. More natural, less vexing. He moans softly. Feels the reciprocal buzz of Mark's answering noise against his skin. Oh, yes, yes, he likes this.

He clings to him as he sucks, his own sounds incidental and far away. He works his mouth more frantically. He can imagine how they look, curled around one another in a tangle, bare skin and slick mouths. He closes his eyes and pictures it as he sucks. His hands keep moving, heat gathering in the cradle of his hips like embers stoked to life.

So good. So good. Better than good. He can't stop his noises leaking out; can't slow down. But it doesn't feel like Mark needs it. He's bringing Adam to the edge with almost no effort, alternating between sucking his cock and licking back over his tight balls, his soft, tender hole. He's filled with a flush of need. He wants to tell him, wants to warn him, but he doesn't want to stop sucking and tasting him, not with bitterness tingeing the back of his tongue. He wants them both to come together Nothing would be as good. And they're both so close, he's trembling with it, mouth watering.

His body jolts with the force of his arousal when Mark's fingers caress at where he's still sensitive from earlier. He whines around Mark's length, drooling a little. At a teasing press, his cock starts to jerk with the tension in his thighs and stomach, closeness rushing up once more. He pulls back and works Mark frantically with his hand. He can feel his hands on Adam too, gripping and clutching. Adam whines again, eyes squeezing shut as he tenses and comes.

Mark coaxes it out of him until he's shaking; desperately whimpering around Mark, overwhelmed but still desperate. He tries to keep his hand moving; a big calloused one wraps around it.

"Let me," he gasps softly, "I can - "

Mark's hand shifts to wrap softly around his wrist instead, a caress. Adam laces their fingers and tips up to continue more comfortably with his mouth.

Mark sighs. "Adam - that's perfect -"

Adam feels lightheaded and proud. Mark's hand gently spreads against the back of his neck, praising and grateful. He tugs gently in another moment, just as Adam feels him firming up ever more.

"Adam, sweetheart - "

Adam understands and pulls back. Just soon enough to stroke Mark as he starts to come. He comes all over Adam's fingers. The sound he makes is incredible.

Adam breathes his name, pushing himself up. They meet in the middle, knelt with their foreheads together in the center of Adam's bed, breathing hard. Mark leans down to kiss him.

"Thank you," Adam says weakly.

"It was my pleasure," Mark murmurs.

Adam thinks it might be strangely formal language for this kind of scenario, but he gets the feeling him and Mark are both learning the markers of familiarity. He feels suddenly exhausted, but pleasantly so. Sticky, though, too. He wriggles a bit and Mark smiles knowingly.

"Wait there, darling."

"Okay." He bites his lip as he watches Mark go. He produces a warm washcloth in another moment, and Adam sighs in delight as he's tended to. "Tired," he admits softly.

"We can sleep now." Mark tidies away the cloth and comes back to bed.

Overwhelm threatens the edge of Adam's senses. He looks around and feels the bedside light too bright; the noise of the street outside too much. He swallows quick and waits for Mark to come settle in. Mark clicks the light off and wraps around Adam. Things dim. He breathes for a long time in the dark, and then swallows.

"I've never felt like that before."

"No? Did you - like it?"

"I - very much, I mean. I don't know exactly how to put it into words."

"That's all right, I'm in no hurry."

Adam thinks hard even so, covering Mark's hands on him with his own, pressing gently for a more

grounding hold. Mark obliges him.

//

Mark lets himself sleep in, their first morning in France. He'd worked late to freshen the house after their evening arrival in the village. Adam had seemed exhausted, by the travel and the change, and he's still tucked into Mark's side, curls all over.

Mark is impressed with him, more so every day. Impressed, and awfully, hauntingly fond. He's sweet and smart and serious. Both of them are serious people, really, but it never gets to be too much somehow. Last night he'd looked around Mark's little house in the dark and just said, softly, "It's exactly how I imagined," before confessing he needed to sleep.

It keeps Mark in bed, now, wanting to be with him when he wakes up. He strokes his hair carefully, sighing at the sight. He's beautiful, every day. And he's starting to stir, stretching out against him with a little hum.

Mark waits to see the brilliant blue eyes before he speaks. "Good morning, darling."

"Good morning," Adam whispers.

"Sleep okay?"

"With you I usually do."

"Glad to hear it."

He blinks around at the room for a moment. Mark looks too, and sees the dust motes whirling in the early morning sun. "Needs a good cleaning, doesn't it?" He laughs ruefully.

"I just thought it looked pretty," Adam says, truthfully.

"You're not wrong." He turns his attention back to him. He really does look angelic, sun making his curls blond and cheeks pink. He draws a hand down Adam's cheek.

"You look magic," Adam whispers, like he’s thinking the same as Mark.

"No more than you."

"Well I can't see me."

"I'll look at you double." Mark leans in to kiss him.

"That doesn't make any sense," Adam mumbles, against his lips, giggling.

"English is my third language," Mark tells him lazily, pulling him into his arms.

"You talk better than most New Yorkers."

Mark just hums, hands slipping under the hem of Adam's t-shirt. "There are other things I do better than most New Yorkers, I bet."

Adam snorts gently. "I don't have much basis for comparison."

"Good, I might be jealous otherwise."

"Would you?" Adam blinks.

Mark pauses, unsure if he's worried him. "I might be," he says gently.

"You needn't be," Adam assures softly. "You're something special, Mark."

"Am I? In what way?"

It was an idle question, but he watches his darling boy try to come up with an answer with enjoyment. "You're quiet," Adam says finally, his own voice hushed, "and calm, and gentle, and you never ask me to do anything I don't want to unless you have to. You don't - get frustrated with me. You tell me what you're worried about. And you're beautiful - and I want to know about you. I want to know so much about the world but not usually so much about someone else. You're more interesting than the stars."

"I think that last part is an exaggeration," Mark murmurs.

"Oh no, I've been told I can't exaggerate," Adam grins at him softly, "or tell jokes."

"Those people must not have been paying attention."

"No one is good at it really."

"Paying attention?"

"Yes. Except maybe you, Mark."

Mark can't help squeezing him close. He bites his lip, and thinks about how frightened Adam had been of him at first. How hard he had worked to earn his trust.

"Is there anything you need, Adam?" he asks softly, the fear creeping in: he's killed so many people, done so many things that would horrify him. The thought of keeping it from him is unusually troublesome: Adam encourages honestly.

"Right now?"

"Right now. Later. Tomorrow."

"Just you. Later some breakfast." He smiles winningly.

"Just me, hm?"

"Yes, it's been a long time since we've last had sex, you know. I had assumed you were waiting until we'd slept." He tilts his head gently to the side. "I hope that's not too demanding."

"It's not too demanding, though I wasn't aware it had been so long."

Adam studies him for a moment. "You're teasing."

"I am teasing." He touches Adam's soft, pale chest. "Tell me how you want me, I'm at your service," Mark smiles.

"I want to try the other way round, maybe?"

"Of course."

"Do you want to?"

"I'm flexible, Adam. It's been a while, but I don't mind."

"’I don't mind’ is non-committal," Adam says, gaze sliding to Mark's shoulder, "I'd prefer committal, so - something else is fine too."

Mark sighs, sliding his hand up Adam's soft throat. He thumbs against the curve of his jaw, body warmed just by his proximity; his words. Adam is still pliant in his arms. Waiting, still and soft and patient.

"I'd like to taste you," Mark murmurs.

"I should shower. I've been asleep. You should too."

His particular boy. "In the shower?" he offers.

"Is it big enough? I don't want you to slip."

Mark grins. "Come and see." He tugs him up gently, and Adam is smiling. He's hard, too, when they get out of bed. Mark has to touch him. A hand sliding to the front of his shorts, shaping him through the fabric and watching him arch prettily. He's as responsive as Mark could possibly wish.

"Mark," he says, a familiar note to it. A quick trigger, this one.

"Come on," he kisses him softly and steers him the last few feet to the bathroom across the landing - more a wet room than anything, small and with a slightly sloped floor. Tiny antique transom windows let in a hazy, filtered light.

Adam looks around as Mark turns on the wide shower head. "This is a big shower."

"I said there was room."

Adam laughs. Then, he steps in behind Mark and starts to push down his underwear. Mark closes his eyes to feel it more completely. Soft hands, competent, no hesitation. When they're both bare, they step under the stream, and Adam sighs at the hot water.

"This is a nice shower - did you build this yourself?"

"Had to get a plumber in for the water to work."

Adam turns his face to the rain shower. "It works."

"It does." Mark watches him, then licks at the torrent falling down Adam's shoulder.

Adam shivers, though he surely isn't cold. "Mark, touch me again -?"

"Of course," Mark murmurs, reaching around to skim fingers down his taut stomach.

He keeps kissing, keeping Adam close. Adam's hips start to move just faintly. Mark curls a hand around him with a sigh.

"Don't you feel lovely," he murmurs.

"You tell me."

"Oh, you do. So hard for me."

"Feels nice, Mark." His breath catches a little. Mark can feel it where their bodies press together.

With a soft hum, he lets Adam go just long enough to grab the soap - Adam's soap. He lathers it in his hands and carefully starts to wash him. He doesn't shy away from continuing his strokes either. It's worth it to see his pink cheeks and parted lips, and the way he bridges into his touch.

"Mark, more, please... "

"So much more, darling." He mutters it into Adam's skin, pulling him close.

Adam twists to wind his arms around him. Their cocks rub together instead, and Mark gives in and takes them both in hand. Shivering, Adam grasps at his hair. Mark smears their mouths together. He can taste the need in Adam's little moan.

Mark's grip around them both is eased by the water. It's still not slick enough, too clean, so he lets go and kneels down carefully in front of Adam, fingers toying behind his balls gently before he guides his cock into his mouth.

Adam groans, the sound bouncing off the tile walls. His legs seem to tremble with shock before he gets a hold on Mark's shoulders. Mark nudges into his hands. He loves the shocked little sounds Adam makes. Loves the fine tremble of his muscles. Mark looks up at him and sighs through his nose. Beautiful, beautiful boy. He already looks overwhelmed. He's watching Mark's face like he needs to memorize it.

"Mark," he whispers, touching his cheek slowly. Mark swirls his tongue. "Oh - god, Mark, that's - "

He hopes it's good. He thinks the increasing frequency of his words is a good sign.

"Mark, I don't think I can stop myself from - " He gasps and shudders at Mark's answering tug on his hips. "Okay. Okay." A shudder runs through him. "Mark -!"

He can taste the change in him. He curls a hand around him to stroke what isn't in his mouth as Adam shakes through his orgasm. He pulls off right away, resting his forehead against Adam's side.

"Sorry," Adam says quickly, "I'm sorry -"

"Don't be," Mark mumbles against his creamy skin. "I wanted you to."

That calms him slightly. He folds down on his knees next to Mark, putting his head on his shoulder.

"Okay?" Mark asks softly.

A nod. He seems just to be breathing; calming. Cupping his nape, Mark lets him settle. It's a bit of a surprise when delicate fingers trail down his stomach.

"I'd like to try that as well, please."

"Anything you want."

Adam smiles as he kisses him. "I want you."

"Anything you want, Adam," Mark whispers.

"Then stand up." Adam's eyes flash to his, blue as the sea. He nuzzles at Mark's stomach softly as he rises. His lashes fall to hide his eyes fluttering as he focuses on his task. The water runs down his back, droplets sparkling on his shoulders and collarbones. He's so beautiful Mark can hardly stand it.

His little pink tongue flicks against Mark's hip. Mark wraps his fingers around the base of his cock as he waits. He loves Adam's eyes on his hand as he tentatively lips at the head of his cock.

"Feels good, Adam," he whispers.

His hot mouth enveloping him further elicits a little shiver. He squeezes the base of his cock as Adam starts to suck.

"Fuck," he whispers. "Oh, darling, don't stop."

Adam shakes his head a little. Mark can feel his tongue still working delicately. It's maddening, delicious, and sweet. Mark's own hand takes the edge off. He can't stop watching Adam. The flush of pink across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. His intent gaze. Hollowing his cheeks, he takes Mark deeper with a hum.

"Ohh, Adam…" his head thuds back against the tile gently. He's being taken ever so gently apart. Adam seems to have plenty of idea what he's doing. He shouldn't have doubted for a second. "Adam," he breathes, "you're beautiful."

He can already feel himself shaking. Just looking at him is intoxicating. He groans when Adam shifts to take him in deeper, dislodging his squeezing fingers. He's cupping Mark's hips, breathing hard as he swallows and sucks.

"Please," Mark grits. Adam looks up questioningly. "I need - "

A little hum tells him Adam understands. He doesn't pull away. He lets Mark start to flex his hips. Just steadying him with his hands when he needs it, pulling back when he needs to breathe. They start a rhythm between the two of them.

It has Mark panting in minutes, his hands finally slipping to Adam's wet curls, gently disrupting them. He holds on while he fights the urge to come, just for a moment more. He doesn't want to stop being connected to Adam yet.

Adam's thumbs circle his hipbones. When Mark looks down, their eyes snap together, and Adam gives a soft, low noise of pleasure that buzzes through Mark's skin.

"Okay?" Mark checks. Adam hums. "Touch me?" Mark whispers.

Adam pulls back, breathing hard. "Tell me what feels best."

"Try whatever you'd like."

"Mark," Adam protests.

"It's different with a different partner," Mark says.

Adam just curls a hand around him. That certainly feels good. And his mouth again, determined and fast sucks. That feels better, especially when his other hand cups his balls.

Mark groans through his teeth. His index finger is rubbing rhythmically at the smooth skin behind them. Suddenly he's close, breathing hard. "Adam, it's perfect."

"Mmm?" He glances up again.

"I'm close," he whispers.

It spirals into a gasp as Adam's efforts double with his enthusiasm. Mark leans against the tile and lets go. It's a fierce, tidal release of pressure. It feels like it comes from his spine and from the floor under his feet. Adam is stroking the last of it out of him, and mark sees him drop his chin and discreetly spit his mouthful into the shower tray as the shivers recede.

"All right?" Mark asks. He smiles at the hasty nod Adam gives. He lifts him to his feet and Adam immediately leans into his chest. His arms wrap around Mark's back. Mark strokes down his spine.

"What shall we do today?" Adam asks, mind already moving.

"We'll walk, and I'll show you around," Mark says decisively.

"Around where?"

"My property. Maybe into the village?"

"All right." Adam tucks his face into Mark's shoulder.

"Let's get dried off."

"I don't wanna get out yet."

"You will once the hot water runs out," Mark smiles.

"Not yet though."

Mark nods. "May I wash your hair?"

"There's not much," Adam says, "but if you want."

"I do," Mark murmurs. He can't help but smile at Adam's patient stillness, and then his little sigh.

"That's nice."

"I thought you might like it." He's so tactile, Mark knows.

"How come?"

"You like being touched in certain ways, I think."

Adam hums in understanding. "I do."

"And I like doing it for you."

"Well - thank you."

"Any time you like, darling."

Adam leans his head back against his shoulder with a grin. "I like that."

"I thought you might."

He urges Adam under the spray after a moment to rinse. They finish up together, never quite parting, and then finally get out to dry off. The droplets littering Adam's shoulders sparkle like stars. Then Mark scrubs his hair dry gently with a towel to watch him giggle and pull away. His blush goes the whole way down his chest. It's stunning, Mark notices, as ever.

Unfortunately he has to let him go get dressed. He gets him some cereal when they're ready, and Adam picks absently at a pull on his cardigan as he eats, smiling to himself occasionally. Mark leaves him be. The smiles are signal enough.

*

Around midday, they head out in the mild sunshine to walk around the grounds; the garden and the thin woodlands behind. Mark feels lingering tension drain with every step. Adam seems to have smiles for everything today. He asks questions about absolutely everything, and Mark does his best to answer.

"Maybe we could stargaze tonight?" Adam asks.

It's a clear day. Mark nods. "If the weather holds, I'd love to."

That makes Adam beam again. "It will hold."

He seems confident. Mark squeezes his hand in silent delight. With the sun caught in his curls and his little, straight smile lighting up his face, Adam looks like Mark really did save him. And he's fiercely glad for it. The thought makes him reach out and catch Adam's hand.

"It will. But if it doesn't, there will be other times."

"Well - good!" Adam smiles wider.

Mark has to pull him in close after that. Words don't come easily to him, but Adam renders him generally speechless. "You're good for me," he mumbles into Adam's hair, ruffling the neat part.

"In what way?"

"You give me things to look forward to."

Adam pauses, nodding quickly. "I think I understand."

"I hope you do."

"I don’t understand most things, but I understand this," Adam echoes, and he touches Mark's shirt buttons gently. "I like it here."

"Stay as long as you'd like," Mark invites.

Adam looks up at him, visibly surprised. "Well, I have work."

"I know, darling."

Adam bites his lip. "I'd like to, you know that."

"Well - you're always welcome."

"It doesn't feel much like a new place," Adam muses. "I think it's because of you." He hums. "I think you've made it easier the whole time, and I don't know why."

"We - work together," Mark points out.

"Well, not now."

Mark smiles and takes his face between his hands. "I mean us. Our personalities."

"Oh." Adam looks a shade embarrassed. "I - yeah." He nods. "You're right, Mark."

"Glad you think so."

"I do, you know I do." He leans his cheek into Mark's palm. "I don't feel like such an outsider, with you."

"You never will. I promise."

"Thank you," Adam whispers. He leans up to kiss Mark's cheek. "I was afraid of you at first - I didn't know how you could be so gentle one minute and scary the next."

"I'm still sorry about that."

"I know."

Adam smiles. "I know you now."

"You do," Mark whispers. "Maybe more than anyone."

"You like that," Adam replies, kissing the other cheek, up on his toes so Mark has to steady him at the waist.

"It's new, but I think I do."

Adam's blue eyes shine for a moment before he presses their cheeks together. "I like it too. We can do new things together."

"We already are," Mark murmurs. He wraps his arms around Adam, savoring his warmth, his small, compact weight.

"We are," Adam agrees. "I already flew across the world to spend more time with you. That really is new."

Mark dips his head to kiss him gently. "Have I thanked you yet?"

"Thanked me for what?"

"Taking a chance on me."

Adam looks up at him and smiles. "It was calculated, and I knew the odds were in our favor."

Mark grins and squeezes him. "Of course you did."

“I’m a scientist, don’t you know?”

“I know.”

When Adam cranes up for another kiss, he can only oblige him. It's all he wants to do with their day, really. They'll have the stars at night, and for the rest of the time... this.


End file.
